Divide, original edition
by WhisperElmwood
Summary: This fic is being re-written and the revised version can be found in 'Divide, revised edition'.
1. Prologue

Summer.  
  
Unlike most students nearing seventeen, he never really looked forward to, nor particularly enjoyed the time off school. Summer meant he was away from his friends, away from the only life he knew, the only place he ever enjoyed himself.  
  
Summer meant putting up with his cousin.  
  
The only thing that kept him sane over the two and a half months was the letter he frequently received from his friends Ron, Hermione and even occasionally Hagrid – his first friend and current Care of Magical Creatures Professor.  
  
He rolled over onto his back, lost in thought about his adventures at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He stared absently up at the sky – today it was a ridiculous shade of periwinkle blue, a very few puffy cotton like clouds dotted about willy ninny, though mostly towards the horizon.  
  
He was lying in the park; a few minuets walk from what could loosely be termed 'home,' as far from everyone else as was possible, absently keeping an eye on Dudley and his gang as they tormented the younger and invariably smaller, children.  
  
Dudley himself was studiously ignoring his smaller cousin, as despite his size and advancing boxing abilities; he was terrified of the young wizard.  
  
He sighed and climbed to his feet, checking he still had the wand he carried with him at all times, when satisfied he trudged wearily back to number four Privet Drive, his home for the next few weeks.  
  
A few minuets later he quietly opened the front door, meaning to make his way to his room before being noticed, and stepped inside. Mere steps away from freedom and the security of his bedroom, his uncle's voice resounded through the floor.  
  
"HARRY! GET DOWN HERE BOY!"  
  
Harry winced, he had been so close. With a sigh of resignation he made his way back down the stairs and into the kitchen. Uncle Vernon was standing by the table, face red with rage, clutching what looked like a letter in his beefy hand.  
  
When he entered, Uncle Vernon waved the crumpled letter in his face, "WELL? What d'you think of this boy? Eh?"  
  
Harry sat down and put on a politely interested expression. It appeared to work, as Vernon continued.  
  
"My name was drawn from the ballot this year, for the two week paid holiday at a five star hotel –" "Well isn't that a good thing?" Harry interrupted, his eyebrows raised quizzically.  
  
Uncle Vernon fairly exploded.  
  
"You would think so, wouldn't you!" Again he thrust the letter under Harry's nose, motioning for him to read it.  
  
Harry did so, not really taking it in, then handed it back to his livid uncle.  
  
"Well?" Vernon nearly screamed the word, making Harry blink, the slowly shrug.  
  
The red colour of his uncles face deepened, "We have to bloody well take you with us!" It suddenly dawned on Harry, his name had been in that letter, he was on the list of invited guests at the hotel. But not only that, but one of his uncles co-workers was going to be there and had requested to meet him.  
  
This meant his uncle was either going to have to try and fob him off on a neighbour, leave him alone in the house for two weeks, or take him with them.  
  
Harry's heart skipped a beat.  
  
* * * *  
  
Hey Hoo o0  
  
I've been inspired, and this is where the inspiration has taken me ^^; I'll get chapter one up as soon as I can – but currently it's about half written ^^;  
  
I do hope people don't mind the amount of things I'm writing at once oo;  
  
Hannah 


	2. Chapter 01

Harry flopped onto his bed and stared over at Hedwig, his snowy owl. She was sleeping noiselessly after a night long hunt.  
  
He had sat in the kitchen for over an hour, listening to uncle Vernon as he complained, rang people and generally got annoyed and purple in the face. After a lot of deliberation, ten minuets of which Harry thought he may at last get a chance to stay home alone for two weeks, uncle Vernon decided that Harry had to come with them.  
  
And then Dudley had walked in, asked what was going on, and Harry had told him.  
  
There had been a lot of shouting after that; Dudley definitely didn't want Harry to ruin the holiday, even if he had just found out about it.  
  
After a while Harry had seriously found himself with a contradiction of feelings, on the one side he had been highly amused at his cousins reaction and wanted to watch it, on the other, he had wanted to be as far from the two arguing behemoths as was humanly possible. They were rather scary when they got going.  
  
Eventually, both he and Dudley had been sent to their rooms, uncle Vernon's final shout of rage that Harry HAD to go with them, still ringing in their ears.  
  
Harry rolled his legs off his bed and sat up.  
  
He stayed as he was for a moment, then stood and stretched, a smile slowly working its way to his lips.  
  
He carefully and quietly made his way to his desk and sat down, pulling out three pieces of parchment and his quill and ink.  
  
He sucked on the end of the quill for a moment, and then wrote three short letters to Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore, his headmaster and occasional confidant.  
  
When he was done he sat back and read them over, making sure they sounded alright, they were just short notes, informing them all of what had happened, as well as a few personal things in each individual letter.  
  
He'd asked Ron is e could look after Hedwig over the two weeks he would be away, as his uncle had absolutely forbade him to bring her, and giving her to a neighbour to look after was out of the question.  
  
In the letter to Hermione he'd asked her to send him anything vaguely interesting about Bath, the city they were holidaying in, things that could keep him occupied over the two weeks, as he was sure the Dursleys would leave him to his own devices.  
  
To Dumbledore, he'd sent a request. It was fairly certain that he would be given no money over the holiday, and the little money he had left from the past school year definitely wouldn't keep him going, especially considering it was wizard money.  
  
While writing the letters he'd resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to do any of his homework for the two weeks. His aunt and uncle certainly wouldn't allow him to take his books, or indeed, anything from Hogwarts, they'd sooner die than have someone accidentally discover his 'different ness.'  
  
He was taking his wand though, aunt and uncle be damned, he never went anywhere without it.  
  
He sealed the letters and stood. Opening Hedwigs' cage door, he gently woke her. She hooted softly and hopped onto his proffered arm.  
  
"Sorry to wake you Hedwig, but I need you to take three letters for me. Are you up to it?"  
  
Hedwig ruffled her feathers slightly, then held out her leg. Harry awkwardly attached the scrolls then carried her to his open window. As he lifted her through it she nipped affectionately at his knuckles and spread her wings, she was soon disappearing on the horizon.  
  
Harry put his elbows on the windowsill, chin in hands and just looked, watching the world as afternoon slowly turned into evening.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Dear Harry,  
Everything's great here. Fred and George's business is booming, so we've all got a little more to go around these days, though mum is still annoyed at them for quitting school, even if it was a over a year ago!"  
  
Harry smiled to himself.  
  
Fred and George's quitting school in his fifth year was now a legendary tale. The twins had rebelled against a ministry appointed official named Delores Umbridge. No one had liked her, but the twins took a distinct dislike when she started targeting Gryffindor.  
  
When they quit, they had made as much trouble as possible, specially creating a swamp in the hall and letting off their own fireworks creations in the entrance hall, they had flown out of the school on their brooms, leaving the school to start a joke shop.  
  
Professor Flitwick had actually been so impressed by the swamp they had created that during clean up he had wardened off a section, and to this day it was still there to be gawped at by the new first years every year.  
  
"Everyone says 'hi' by the way. Mum wants to know if you'd like her to send any food for the holiday - I think she's still a little suspicious of muggle food, though maybe she thinks the Dursleys won't feed you (which is probably true)  
Yeah, we'll be glad to take Hedwig for the two weeks, she'll actually come in useful, what with all the mail and, well, you know."  
  
Harry grinned to himself, Ron and Hermione had been courting for the past few months, and Ron was probably on about using an owl other than Pig or Errol, hyper and old respectively, to get his letters to her.  
  
"Anyway, I hope you enjoy the holiday, fat chance though. Make sure you get presents, you can't go on holiday without me and then not bring compensation!  
  
Ron  
  
P.S. Hermione says you asked for things to do? Are you mad? I reckon she's writing out a ten page list with foot notes and homework right this minuet!"  
  
Harry chuckled to himself, as it turned out, Hermione had indeed written a rather long list for him, but then, it appeared there was more to Bath than he'd first thought. Hopefully he'd be able to keep himself occupied while his aunt, uncle and cousin were out doing whatever they thought a respectable holidaying family should be.  
  
A thought passed through his mind and he shuddered. Bath wasn't too far from a few beaches. Dudley in a bathing suit. Scary thought.  
  
Shaking his head at the idea, he packed away the three scrolls he had received and took out the pouch Dumbledore had sent him. It contained about a hundred pounds in both muggle and wizard money, hopefully that should keep him for two weeks.  
  
It was a fine pouch, deep red with gold threading and actually had two pockets on the inside, one side containing the muggle money, the other the wizarding, possibly to make sure that no muggle who happened to be within seeing distance saw the galleons, sickles and knutts and started asking questions.  
  
He fished out the remaining galleons and sickles he had left from sixth year and put them in the wizarding half of the pouch then packed it away with his clothing in the small suitcase he had been given by aunt Petunia.  
  
Before Hedwig had returned with the three letters and pouch, he'd managed to fit a few t-shirts and jeans into it. Now he took out a moth eaten jumper, just in case, and sat folding it, Hedwig on his shoulder, watching in interest.  
  
* * * *  
  
Dudley was moping.  
  
It was to be expected, but it didn't make the fact any easier to handle. When Dudley moped, he took it to new levels.  
  
And Harry was going to have to sit next to him for at least two hours, in the cramped confines of the rear seats, made all the more cramped by Dudley himself.  
  
"Move over 'Dudders', or do you want a new tail to go with the one you lost?" Harry said in a barely audible whisper so only Dudley would hear him. "You could have a matching set of scars."  
  
Dudley blanched and moved almost imperceptibly to his left, closer to the window, giving Harry a seething glare as he did so.  
  
Dudley always sat on the left, as uncle Vernon always drove, and uncle Vernon never had any room behind his seat. Which meant Harry had to squeeze in, around the extra suitcase Dudley had brought that hadn't fit in the boot and obviously wouldn't fit in the middle, because Dudley, well, flopped, there was no other word for it. When Dudley was sat in the car, bits of him flopped and he nearly took up two entire seats.  
  
Harry pulled out one of his books, the only one he'd been able to bring with him, as he'd had the foresight, many months ago, to transfigure the cover into what looked like a very boring muggle book so Dudley wouldn't steal it.  
  
It was, in fact, the latest book on Quidditch, his favourite sport. He'd bought it in Hogsmead during Easter, and then had been unable to read it until now.  
  
Aunt Petunia was snoring in front of him to his left, uncle Vernon was muttering to himself about hooligan drivers and idiot motorbikes and Dudley was once again ignoring him.  
  
'This trip is going to be a barrel of laughs' he mused to himself.  
  
* * * *  
  
Bath turned out to be as beautiful as Hermione had said in her letter.  
  
At first it just looked like any other city, though slightly cleaner with nicer architecture, but a few minuets more and they had begun to near the hotel, which appeared to be in a time warp of some sort.  
  
Great Pultney street was clean, white, symmetrical and a gloriously preserved Georgian street.  
  
There was even a fountain at the opposite end, in place of a roundabout. It was currently in full swing, the water reaching at least six feet above the top of the fountain itself.  
  
There weren't many people about, though there were a few cars parked along both sides of the wide road, most of the people that could be seen were smart looking and looked mildly harassed.  
  
Uncle Vernon pulled into an empty space before the hotel entrance and snapped at everyone to get out and collect their luggage while he went to reception and checked in.  
  
As he grabbed his meagre belongings, Harry looked around at the street, admiring the beauty of the architecture around him, then reluctantly followed aunt Petunia and Dudley into the foyer.  
  
It was as elegant as the doorway suggested it would be. There were leather seat, mahogany, oak, brass lights with marbled green glass shades, expensive looking drapes on all the front windows.  
  
Even the woman at the desk looked expensive.  
  
Harry marvelled at that for a moment, wondering at the strange thought of someone looking expensive. He shrugged inwardly and moved a little closer to his aunt and uncle, though staying at a respectful distance.  
  
After a few minuets, the woman gave Vernon a key. He, aunt Petunia and Dudley walked off in the right direction, and Harry followed, slowly and at a slight distance.  
  
"Oh! Excuse me sir?"  
  
Harry turned, unconsciously brushing his fringe down over his scar, "Uh. yeah?"  
  
The woman beamed at him, but slightly falsely, "Sir, your uncle wished me to show you to your room."  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. He blinked and shook himself.  
  
"P - Pardon?"  
  
He was stunned. He had been expecting dirty looks, the cheapest meals on the menu, even being locked in the room occasionally, but being given an entirely different one? It even looked like he wouldn't have a key.  
  
Rather mutely, and feeling terribly dejected, Harry followed the expensive looking woman down a different corridor and to an old looking door.  
  
"This is your room sir."  
  
She opened the door and he stepped in. Before he could even register anything, the door was closed and he was alone.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
So - there you go - the Dursley's are being shittier than ever by sticking him in a cheap tiny little room while they get the high life ^^;  
  
Ah well, maybe it's a blessing, at least he wont have to share a room with 'Dudders'  
  
Hannah 


	3. Chapter 02

Harry lay on the vaguely comfortable bed that smelled of clean sheets and stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows of people walking by passing over the dull white paint.  
  
It was apparent to him now that the next two weeks was going to be hell, unless he somehow managed to get the spare key from the expensive looking receptionist. But he probably wouldn't be able to.  
  
Uncle Vernon had visited him earlier in the evening, tossing a pre-packaged sandwich and a bottle of juice on the bed as he did so. There had been nothing more than necessity in the gesture.  
  
He had stopped a moment and then said "I have the key, at eight o'clock every morning I will unlock the door and we shall go to the breakfast hall. Do what you like during the day, and meet me again at eight o'clock in the evening in the foyer for dinner."  
  
Then he'd left, locking the door behind him.  
  
Harry had silently eaten the food, being almost ravenous, having missed dinner unpacking his things and straightening the small room. He had found that the room wasn't entirely bad, it was ensuit at least, so he had laid out his toiletries when he'd finished unpacking.  
  
Overall, the room was rather sparse, containing only a bed, bedside table with a dull lamp and a small wardrobe, with a chair under the window. The décor wasn't too bad, it followed the same lines as the foyer, mahogany and deep reds, but it really only served to make him wonder what the room Dudley was now living in was like.  
  
It was undoubtedly bigger, probably more extravagant, probably with a bathroom that had a bath rather than a shower.  
  
He rolled over; thinking this holiday was going to be two of the worst weeks of summer he'd ever experienced. It was clear to him, now, that the Dursleys' had a well planned two weeks, and he didn't fit anywhere in them.  
  
It was also obvious to him, and had been the instant he stepped into the small room, that he was going to be locked out of the room during the day and was going to have to find something to do all day every day for the entire holiday.  
  
He fell asleep wondering what his friends were doing, and if they were enjoying the evening more than he was.  
  
* * * *  
  
Bath turned out to be rather a nice place, nicer to look at than Hermione's long boring list had suggested.  
  
The fountain at the end of Great Pultney street gave him somewhere to sit and think after uncle Vernon had kicked him out.  
  
He sat on the rim, in the centre of the roundabout, watching the traffic flow around him - mostly busses, as it appeared cars weren't allowed past the fountain - and the people walking past, wondering what to do.  
  
After a while, he decided he should just explore for a while, as it was the first day of the holiday, he should get himself acquainted with the city he was to be locked out of his room into.  
  
He slipped off the fountains rim and jogged across the roundabout, dodging a car pulling out of its parking space. He grinned at the surprised woman in the driver's seat and then set off down Pultney Bridge.  
  
He looked at it interestedly; Hermione had told him it was a bit of a centre point in Bath. It was one of those old Georgian bridges, and when actually standing on it, you couldn't tell it apart from the rest of the street. Each side was lined with small shops; the left side was a row of trinket shops with a small café at the end, the right, a couple of clothes courts.  
  
He looked in the windows as he walked down the left hand side, toward a set of traffic lights. He turned left when he reached them and finally saw the River Avon.  
  
He paused for a while, resting his elbows on the stone wall, looking down at the river, watching the water fall over the step effect under the water about thirty feet from the bridge.  
  
From this angle he liked the bridge, it looked as old as Hermione said it was, and in its' way it was quite elegant. The three, solid, arches gave it a look of stability - though he knew from reading Hermione's letter that it had had to be repaired at least once - the decorative lines, and the smartly placed windows all fit together perfectly.  
  
He smiled as he saw a Roman soldier standing on the opposite bank, handing out leaflets to passers by, two or three children were running round the poor mans feet, almost making him drop the wad of paper in his hands.  
  
He glanced to the right, and realised there was a rugby field on that side, which explained why he had been woken up by shouting and whistles being blown.  
  
He stepped back and looked around, behind him was an enormous hotel, looking very over fancy, but very clean. He shrugged slightly and moved off down the wide path, avoiding other tourists - a lot of them American - and passing behind the two small bus shelters.  
  
He reached the end of the little street and looked down over the wall again. There was a beautiful garden, a tall plinth stood near the wall with an old angel statue standing on the top with her back to him.  
  
A few feet ahead of her was a large-ish flower bed containing a very big topiary bush, shaped like some sort of teddy bear wearing a crown. The sight of this spectacle made him frown, it was kind of ugly, but in a very artistic fashion.  
  
In the centre of the garden, surrounded by a lot of well kept grass and many deck chairs, was a small gazebo, probably for music to be played or something, though its' current occupier was a homeless man with his dog.  
  
Harry looked around a bit more, then looked up at the abbey a short distance away, behind an obelisk standing in the centre of a large roundabout that also had two or three large silver birches and a nice array of perennials.  
  
He kept his eye on the traffic, and crossed to the roundabout, dodging a remarkably yucky green and pale yellow coloured tour bus as he did so.  
  
He looked up, and more up, at the beautiful old building. He remembered Hermione saying this church was built in 1499, and it was built on the place two previous churches had been, in 757 and 1090 respectively.  
  
He reflected on how old the building was for a moment, looking at the magnificent architecture. The church had at least seven large stained glass windows in view from where he was standing, and the decoration was suitably gothic.  
  
There were arches reaching from the lower tier to the top of the first floor windows. He found himself admiring the medieval abbey for so long he felt twinges in his knees from standing.  
  
He smiled to himself and, watching the tour busses - now some red ones with flower patterns on them had turned up - he crossed over from the roundabout and stood at the base of the Abbey.  
  
He glanced up at its magnificence again, and then set off down the path that would take him, presumably, to its front.  
  
He passed a lovely looking statue as he rounded the cross section of the church. It looked old, and a little worn from people stepping up onto its' base, but it also looked a little vandalised.  
  
He wrinkled his nose in distaste - apparently even Bath had a bit of a problem.  
  
He came out of the short street next to the church and found himself in a large area, there were seat to the right, and a huge expanse of flagstone to the left. There was a large crowd and he stood on tiptoe to see why.  
  
There was a firer eater.  
  
He raised his eyebrows slightly and then looked further past the crowd, and realised there were two, the second one surrounded a man just climbing onto a tall unicycle.  
  
He looked around some more and noted the Roman Baths Hermione had told him of. Apparently he should visit them at some point and try the water. He took note of where it was as he had already planned to visit it.  
  
He crossed the square, glancing up at the front of the abbey as he did so - it was even more impressive than the rest of the building - passed under what appeared to be a stone roof held up by stone pillars (there was a group of giggly girls sitting on a star case on the left side of it, all of whom watched him as he passed) and stepped out onto the main shopping street of the city.  
  
It was crowded to say the least.  
  
* * * *  
  
He spent a few hours wondering around the centre of Bath, looking in the usual muggle stores, giving a bit of change to the 'Blue Man' who stood as still as a statue in front of the Roman Baths entrance, pouring over the many mobile stores that were ranged up and down the street, mostly selling useless objects or hand made jewellery.  
  
He stood and watched a street artist painting the Royal Crescent from memory with a spatula, grinned to himself as girls crowded round a hair braiding stall, and was sorely tempted when he found a bubble gun stall, Ron would have found them fascinating.  
  
The architecture of Great Pultney street was continued even in this shopping street, every building was a gorgeous sample of Georgian artistry. Though there was a fair amount of later architecture muddled in, and everything was covered in the mish mash of colours and shapes that marked the twenty first centaury.  
  
He found that, despite his aunt and uncle being so despicably horrible, he was enjoying himself.  
  
While exploring one of the alleys that ran parallel to the main street, Harry discovered two things that made him smile.  
  
The first was a cookie store named Jays' Cookies that sold absolutely wonderful cookies. He bought himself three, to munch on for the rest of the day, they were freshly made, and the chocolate in them was pleasantly melted.  
  
The second he discovered at the other end of the alley while munching on the first cookie.  
  
A wizard shop.  
  
Of course, it didn't look exactly like a wizard shop, as it was cleverly disguised as what muggle though one should look like, but he knew it none the less, he could feel the real magic within its walls. The name above the door, and hanging from a sign that moved slightly in the breeze, was Arcadia.  
  
Still munching on the cookie, he stood and looked in the large window.  
  
The display was interesting, there were useless muggle magic objects, but interspersed through those were a handle of real ones, he had the strong feeling that only he could see them anyway.  
  
Behind the actual display, he could see a waterfall, lightly splashing its way down to a pond in which he was sure he could see goldfish.  
  
He smiled again and wondered at the simplicity of the ruse, the owner of this store was hiding in plain sight. He was amazed the ministry allowed them to do it, if they even knew about it at all. Though he would be hard pressed indeed to believe they didn't.  
  
Finishing the cookie, he put the other two away in the small bag he had slung over his shoulders and stepped inside.  
  
The pond behind the display turned out to be a lovely bit of decoration, but it was also used as a way of promoting things in the store itself. Behind the water, and arranged around the fall itself were crystals, amethysts, emeralds, statues of various deities and African wood and stone carvings.  
  
Directly in front of the door was a stair case, a sign on the wall next to it declared that there was a lot more on offer right up them.  
  
To the left of the staircase, and taking up the space underneath it was the till area, the counter top wound its way in an almost semi-circular way, extending about five feet out from the wall.  
  
Along its surface were many mobiles and shelves all containing things like pendants, pendulums, crystals and jewellery. The counter itself was glass and contained a large array of cut gemstones, more jewellery and larger objects muggles' thought of as magical.  
  
Harry shook his head as he realised there was little space for the till and less for the purchasing itself.  
  
The wall opposite the till area was a mass of shelves, mostly containing candles and incense sticks - which he now realised was what was making the room smell so nice. At the far end of the wall, the shelves were stacked with tapes, cassettes and even a few DVD's.  
  
The back wall was entirely pre-crushed, or even touched herbs, all neatly kept in glass jars, labelled and numbered. There was a small desk in front of it, a few jars open and a little porcelain bowl laid out.  
  
The rest of the wall behind the till area couldn't be seen as the counter ran up the wall with a large display case.  
  
He stepped in properly and glanced at the jovial looking man behind the till.  
  
The man, who was rather strangely dressed in full wizarding robes, moved his eyes over Harry's face, taking in the ruffled black hair, piercing green eyes and then moved up to his forehead.  
  
Harry turned away and pushed his fringe down over the scar, moving a little further into the store.  
  
When he turned back, the man raised his eyebrows and said "Harry Potter?"  
  
There was no getting away from it now. Harry nodded slightly.  
  
"Ha! I thought it was, but here, in my store? Ha!"  
  
The man laughed lightly as Harry started blushing, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. He fervently hoped the man wouldn't notice he was blushing.  
  
"I'm Henry Shire, I own this little place with my lovely wife." He held his hand out and Harry took it, a little uncertainly. "What are you doing in this neck of the woods anyway?" He had a thick Wiltshire accent that had given Harry pause as he tried to decipher what was being said.  
  
Harry glanced around, stuffing his hand back in his pocket, "My aunt and uncle brought me with them on a family holiday."  
  
The man laughed again, he seemed unable to keep the laugh inside, "So what does Harry Potter think of the fair city of Bath?"  
  
Harry shrugged slightly, "It's nice. I've spent a few hours exploring."  
  
The man smiled and gave Harry a few pointers on the best bits of the city, then directed him to a door at the back of the room, it led to the strictly non-muggle section of the store.  
  
Harry thanked him and moved in the genera direction, looking at the parts of the store that had previously been obscured by the counter and the slight L-shape of the room.  
  
This part of the store contained all the books, muggle and wizard from the looks of them.  
  
This part of the room also contained someone he hadn't expected.  
  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
From sleek white blonde head to leather booted toe, it was unmistakably him.  
  
It had been just over three weeks since he had seen Malfoy, and as far as he could tell, he hadn't changed much, though it was very strange to see him in muggle clothing.  
  
As he quietly and quickly walked to the non-muggle section, he looked Malfoy over, he was wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans to go with the boots, his white blonde hair was vividly striking, creating a stark contrast that Harry admitted actually looked quite good.  
  
He had to hand it to him, Malfoy knew how to dress himself, though this didn't make up for his absolutely charming personality.  
  
Malfoy must have felt his gaze on him, as just as Harry was within a few feet of the door, he turned.  
  
Hoping against hope that he hadn't actually seen him, Harry crossed the remaining space at a fast walk and closed the door behind him.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco heard movement behind him, and ignored it. Dressed like this, he normally had muggle girls all over him, so he carried on reading the book he had picked out of the shelves in front of him.  
  
A moment later he realised there was someone actually staring at him, he could feel it in the pricking between his shoulder blades, he turned and his pale eyes rested on the one person he had least expected to see.  
  
Harry Potter was trying to sneak past him into the wizarding section of the store.  
  
He watched as Potter reached the door and closed it behind him, then snapped the book closed with a smirk on his lips.  
  
He put the book away and made his way to the door, opened it, looked around and quietly closed it behind him.  
  
* * * *  
  
Ok, ok, so I used this chapter to describe my beautiful home town ^^;  
  
Who cares? ^^ we needed to get some idea of where he was, and what the place looked like, so I did, and had fun doing it too ^^  
  
As far as I know, the descriptions of Bath are all accurate - and they should be, considering I've lived here for over ten years now and know the place back to front - but I have changed a couple of names here and there - for example Arcadia is a real shop, but under a slightly different name, and if anyone visits Bath, you should look it up ^^  
  
The extra room I wrote into Arcadia - I'm pretty sure I remember a door at the back of the shop, but obviously, it won't have the non-muggle section in it ^^ It's just something I used because it was there and worked ^^  
  
Also, the topiary bush in the garden next to the river - It changes ever year, it's sometimes a teddy, sometimes some sort of animal, and every time it looks very well done, but very ugly oo;  
  
Anyway, DRACO!  
  
Heh heh, I finally got him in, right at the end of chapter two ^^  
  
Tune in next time for the outcome of this delectable meeting ^^  
  
Hannah  
  
P.S. And by the way - that cookie shop DOES do the best cookies in the world ^^ *drools* 


	4. Chapter 03

Ok, I completely forgot to do this in the first three uploads oo;  
  
All characters - but for Henry Shire - are copywrite to J.K. Rowling, whom I worship and don't wish to offend with my minor prattling ^^;  
  
The story is copywrite me, please respect that, but the places mentioned are all real, though I have taken care to change the names of the shops as I also do not wish to offend them oo;  
  
Anyway ^^; I'll try and remember to do this next time as well ^^  
  
Thank you all who have reviewed! I'm amazed, people like this weird brain child of mine? Yayness ^^;  
  
And I apologise for the extra time taken on this one, as I was dragged out shopping with the family all day oo;  
  
So - on with the story!  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Draco looked around the room.  
  
It was actually larger than the muggle part, but not quite as well laid out, there were rows of shelving, containing pretty much anything a witch or wizard could need, as this happened to be the only store in town, but the shelving was inconvenient, it prevented anyone from getting a clear view of the room.  
  
He saw movement to his right, and knowing no one else had come in over the past hour or so that he had been here, Draco headed towards Harry.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry headed for the rear of the room when he'd closed the door, hoping, still, that Draco hadn't seen him and that if he had, that he wouldn't bother him. He really wasn't in the mood for a fight at the moment.  
  
This part of the store was actually rather interesting. There was a smell of old books about the place that reminded him greatly of Hermione after she'd spent hours in the library.  
  
He looked around at the shelving and was almost instantly fascinated, there were a few things here that, despite spending the past six and a half years in the wizarding world, he still hadn't seen before.  
  
He walked along the shelf, muttering the names of things under his breath, trying them out to himself.  
  
"Mucklebone powder , essence of Black Rain, Mocksey toes, euw, Goblin bogies"  
  
He stopped and stared at the unlikely jar of goo.  
  
"Lovely."  
  
He couldn't imagine what potion would require Goblin bogies, but then, he probably didn't want to know. He turned to continue down the shelving again and found himself face to face with Draco, who was smiling rather disarmingly.  
  
Harry stopped, shocked.  
  
"Uh, hey Malfoy."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Is that all you have to say Potter? I'm surprised, where are the scathing remarks? The cutting jibes?"  
  
Harry moved round him and continued down the aisle, breaking the uncomfortable eye contact that had been forced on him.  
  
"I'm not in the mood Malfoy, I'm just trying to do some shopping, can we quit with the antagonism for once?"  
  
It was Draco's turn to be stunned. He stood shocked for a moment, all thoughts of the argument he had been planning leaving his mind, then turned and watched Harry walk slowly up the aisle, muttering the names of the potions ingredients on the shelves to himself.  
  
As Harry turned the corner and disappeared from view, Draco shook himself and followed.  
  
He found Harry a moment later looking through the books a few aisles down the row. He was looking at each of them as if he'd never seen anything like them before.  
  
He watched as Harry ran a finger down a spine, then remove the book and flip it open.  
  
"What do you want Malfoy?" He hadn't even looked up.  
  
Draco folded his arms with a defiant expression.  
  
"What are you doing here Potter?"  
  
Harry glanced up, "I told you, I'm shopping."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, "You know what I mean, what are you doing HERE, in Bath?"  
  
Harry closed the book and looked at him, "Why?"  
  
He was wrong, Draco had changed a little over the past three weeks. It seemed almost impossible, but the damn boy seemed to have grown a little, they were now practically eye to eye with each other.  
  
Draco shrugged, "Curious."  
  
Harry sighed and replaced the book, "My Uncle won a holiday here for two weeks, I was forced to come along because one of his work mates wants to meet me."  
  
He turned away again and continued perusing the books, he was looking for something Hermione may like for Christmas, even though it was a good few months away, but he wasn't sure if she already had the ones that looked vaguely interesting.  
  
Draco watched him as he moved down the aisle, inwardly seething at the way Potter was acting, but also trying to think how to be civil to someone he hadn't been civil with since the third time they'd met. He rolled his eyes at himself, this was the boy who'd gotten his father thrown in Azkaban, why was he trying to figure out how to be civil?  
  
Of course, he didn't exactly care for his father, overbearing git that he was, but it was the principal of the thing. And anyway, they'd been at each others throats over various subjects for the past six years.  
  
Why was he talking himself into not being civil?  
  
Draco scowled at himself and tried to think of something malicious to say to Potter, to make himself feel better about thinking such patently stupid thoughts.  
  
But, just for the moment, he couldn't think of anything. He was stumped. At school he always had remarks, comments and insults ready and waiting on the tip of tongue whenever he saw the boy, but here, with no one around, nothing came.  
  
He went for broke, and was mildly shocked by what eventually escaped his lips.  
  
"So, what are you doing anyway?"  
  
Now why the hell had he asked that?  
  
Harry looked up from the book he was flicking through. He gave Draco a blank look for a moment, then shrugged, "Trying to find something Hermione doesn't have."  
  
Draco arched an eyebrow, "In the books section? I'm sure that mudblood has read everything in existence by now."  
  
Yes! Finally, something that should at least provoke some sort of response.  
  
Harry frowned, "Don't call her that Malfoy." He snapped the book shut and left the books section, leaving Draco to himself once more.  
  
Draco seethed, silently, at the way Potter had just walked off, without so much as a 'fuck you.'  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry found the jokes section and moved over to it, looking for anything Ron may like, though he was slowly coming to the conclusion that maybe a muggle present would be a better idea.  
  
Ron wasn't as enthusiastic about muggle stuff as he father was, but he still liked the odder things, 'such as that bubble gun' Harry thought, thinking of going back and actually getting it.  
  
He knew also that, in making that hateful remark about Hermione, Malfoy had been half right. Hermione probably wouldn't want a book, she'd probably prefer something more useful, such as a wand repair kit, or a set of potions utensils, or something.  
  
As he looked at the shelves upon shelves of joke items, he became more sure that Ron would prefer the bubble gun, and decided that he should get Hermione's presents some other time.  
  
As he turned to leave, he saw Malfoy looking at him, well, looking daggers at him, but he did his best to ignore him and left through the door into the muggle section.  
  
He paused when he saw the jewellery and stopped, looking at the pendants and pendulums, some of the things in there looked rather nice. Maybe Hermione would like something like this?  
  
It wasn't anything practical, or useful, but still, Hermione was a girl, right?  
  
Harry looked at the wide collection of gemstone jewellery, wondering which she'd like best. He didn't know much about girls in general, his only experiences, in nearly seventeen years of life, had been with Cho in fifth year, and of course he'd known Hermione since first year.  
  
But what, he reminded himself, was he, of all people, supposed to know about girls anyway?  
  
Arrgh, even Ron would have done better than this.  
  
He finally saw a bracelet he thought she'd like, a silver chain with amethyst stones laced into it. It looked like a good Christmas present, so he pointed it out to Henry and passed over the five pounds it cost.  
  
The store's owner made a passing comment about lucky girls, and wondering who she was, but Harry only nodded, pretending nonchalance at the idea of him and Hermione.  
  
As he left the store, he found himself wondering about Malfoy.  
  
Why had the boy, well, man now really, been almost civil? When he had seen him, Harry had been so sure Malfoy would start a fight in the middle of the store. He had been so sure in fact, that he had been rather shaken when nothing more than the remark about 'mudbloods' had happened.  
  
It was a mildly interesting conundrum, but he wasn't going to let himself think too much on it, as Malfoy had proved more than once that anything he did tended to have some sort of ulterior motive.  
  
He looked at his watch, it was nearing seven thirty. He hadn't realised he'd spent all day out, he'd barely registered the time passing, even when he had stopped and spent an hour in Mac Donald's eating lunch and watching people through the top floor window.  
  
He decided to head back to the hotel and wait in the foyer; Draco Malfoy and his strange behaviour could wait until another day.  
  
He didn't notice the pale eyes watching him as he hurried up the alley.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry sat at his table, alone, eating the meagre, but surprisingly tasty, meal the Dursleys' had bought for him. Of course, the only reason it tasted any good was because this was a posh restaurant, and the chef was probably an overpaid expert.  
  
He looked over at his aunt, uncle and cousin, briefly wondering how their first day had been, then shook himself and looked back down at his plate. He was going to be hungry tonight, good thing he had eaten only one of the cookies.  
  
He heard raucous laughter and looked up again, the Dursleys' were laughing at some private joke, but quite loudly. He caught his cousins' eye briefly, and the bigger boy frowned, grinned as if at Harry's misfortune, and looked away again.  
  
Harry fumed slightly at the injustice of the world, then got back to finishing his meal, ignoring his relatives with all his might.  
  
As he ate, his mind turned back to Malfoy and his strange behaviour in the wizard shop only an hour or so ago.  
  
That hadn't been like him, on any other occasion Malfoy would have revelled in finding Harry alone, just so he could torment him. But not today it seemed. Today Malfoy had seemed unable to even think straight.  
  
He wondered what it meant for a while and slowly came to the conclusion that it had probably been the lack of any of his Slytherine house mates within shouting distance, as that had nearly always made Malfoy falter.  
  
With that as sorted as it was going to get, Harry turned his mind to trying to figure out how to get his door key off of either Vernon or the receptionist.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Ok, short and not entirely sweet, but it'll have to do ^^;  
  
I know it's not the best thing I've ever written, but it got down the necessary wassname, and I'm vaguely happy with it ^^;  
  
Next chapter will have a little more exploring of my fair home town, and a lot more Draco - so don't worry all you Draco fans ^^;  
  
Thank you's go out to :  
  
Layce 74, Shelli, Dragonfly, Sakura, Fire of the Angel, Little duckie and zeynel, for your kind words ^^  
  
And Shelli - my email is death_stalker66@hotmail.com if you would like some info on nice places to visit in the UK ^^  
  
Hannah 


	5. Chapter 04

Again - all characters copywrite J. K. Rowling, and I am making nothing from this ^^  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry cornered his uncle after the meal, in public, and asked for his room key.  
  
He had sat and thought about the best ways to get the damn thing back all through dinner, when he'd stopped wondering about Malfoy at any rate. He'd come to the conclusion that catching him in public, and forcing him to react in a way that wouldn't make him seem not 'normal,' was the best way to go about it.  
  
Both his uncle and his aunt had a thing about appearing as normal as possible to the general populace, which was one of the reasons they resented having Harry around so much, so he knew they would have to give it to him, and appear happy while they did it.  
  
Harry felt it would be just punishment for treating him like they had so far and by the end of dinner was quite looking forward to the experience.  
  
"Uncle Vernon?"  
  
He caught them while they were standing behind another family, waiting to pay for the meal. There was a good amount of people around, so he felt it should go as planned.  
  
He smirked ever so slightly when uncle Vernon flinched and Dudley tried to hide behind his bony mother.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" his uncle said through clenched teeth, attempting a smile, and almost failing.  
  
"I'd like my room key back now, please. Thanks for looking after it during dinner." That should work; it gave uncle Vernon absolutely no way to say he'd left it in the room or something. He smiled sweetly and to all outward appearances seemed nothing more than a grateful nephew.  
  
He watched as his aunt Petunia pursed her lips in disdain, uncle Vernon fought back a scream of rage and Dudley tensed, looking horrified. There was no way out of it for them, and Vernon pulled himself together admirably well in Harry's opinion.  
  
Though he silently hoped Vernon wouldn't pull himself together enough to think up an excuse.  
  
"Of course, Harry. Just - just give me a moment to pay."  
  
Harry couldn't let that happen, or he'd never get the key, as Vernon would stalk off to the rooms and out of the public eye as soon as he'd paid. Harry smiled again, thinking quickly.  
  
"Oh, can I have it now please? I'd like to go clean up, then I'd be out of your hair for a while."  
  
Vernon's face started going red, but it appeared to be working, he looked like he was about to give in. For a moment Harry thought his uncle would loose all pretences and tell him to fuck off and wait at his door, but Vernon surprised him.  
  
Through clenched teeth and a false grin he managed, "Alright," and stuffed a ham fist in his trouser pocket, rooting around for the key. A moment later he pulled it out and very unwillingly, holding onto it for slightly too long, he handed it to Harry.  
  
"Thanks uncle. See you later then."  
  
Face going even redder, Vernon nodded, nostrils flaring.  
  
Harry walked away, as nonchalantly as possible, clutching the key in his pocket. As he left he could hear Vernon making loud, almost offhanded remarks about teenagers and their need for privacy.  
  
Harry grinned to himself triumphantly.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry spent the second day alone in his room, relaxing and reading. At lunch he walked down the street to the newsagents and bought a sandwich, chocolate bar and bottled drink, then sat on the fountain eating and watching the people around him.  
  
He was still revelling in his victory over his uncle. It had been a gamble, but he had won out, and not heard a word from either member of the family since. There hadn't even been any retaliation later in the evening. He had sat on his bed for a good few hours, waiting for his uncle to come storming to his room to demand he give the key back, but it hadn't happened. He'd been relieved.  
  
Now though, while he ate, relaxing on the edge of the fountain, being gently sprayed by the occasional bit of water, his thoughts turned back to Malfoy.  
  
He took a bite of the sandwich and wondered what Malfoy was even doing in Bath in the first place. He knew, of course, that the Malfoys' lived in a 'Wiltshire Mansion,' but that still didn't quite explain it.  
  
He took another bite and found himself thinking about how Malfoy had looked, wearing those muggle clothes. It was the deep green turtle neck he had been wearing under the jacket, it had set off his pale eyes much too nicely.  
  
He shook himself and took another bite, reprimanding himself on thoughts like that about bloody Malfoy of all people. But still, he HAD looked rather nice, and there was no fault to be found in simply thinking about it, so long as he didn't tell anyone.  
  
He smiled to himself and took another bite. He'd always approved of Malfoys looks and uncanny ability to wear just the right thing to drive the female students mad, he'd even occasionally wondered how they would have gotten on if Malfoy hadn't been placed in Slytherine.  
  
Over the past two years Malfoy had outgrown is angelic childhood looks, and grown into the looks of a fallen angel. He looked beautiful, but utterly dangerous. Harry had noted it all, along with many other students.  
  
He finished the sandwich and slipped from the fountains edge. He darted through the traffic on the roundabout and headed back to the hotel. He wanted to finish the Quidditch book before the evening, so he could spend a little more of tomorrow visiting the city.  
  
* * * *  
  
He spent the third day visiting the tourist places.  
  
On his way past he had stopped in the newsagents and bought a single use camera, he planned to develop the photos once back at Hogwarts. He looked at the different tourist busses, wondering which to choose for a while, then gave up and jumped onto one of the red ones, racing to the top floor to get a good seat.  
  
He spent a long time on that trip, taking photos of the nicer things, remembering where everything was so he could revisit later in the holiday and generally having fun, feeling like a normal tourist.  
  
Afterwards he decided to visit the roman baths. On Hermione's advice, he tried the water. He wished he hadn't, it had made him feel like a vampire, the stuff tasted like blood because of the iron content.  
  
Around two in the afternoon, he found himself sitting on one of the benches, eating his way through a bag of apple slices, thoughtfully watching the people walking past. When someone sat down next to him, he paid little attention, just shuffled up the bench a little to give more room.  
  
A moment of companionable silence, then, "Enjoying your self, Potter?"  
  
Harry turned and looked at the person who had sat next to him. It was Malfoy. Of Course, wouldn't be anybody bloody else would it?  
  
"Thoroughly," he stated, and continued with the apple slices.  
  
Malfoy was looking annoyingly handsome again, this time wearing smart black trousers and a short sleeved shirt over a long sleeved black t-shirt. Again his hair and eyes were striking.  
  
Harry tried to ignore it.  
  
"Seen Victoria park yet?"  
  
Harry shook his head no, wondering why Malfoy was again being civil. "Not yet."  
  
Malfoy leant forward, elbows on his knees and smiled. "Feel like taking a walk up to it now?"  
  
Harry looked at him a moment, taking in the bored expression on his face, then shrugged. "Sure. Just don't pull anything, I'm in a better mood today, don't want to spoil it."  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco was surprised when he'd seen Harry.  
  
There was no real reason to be, as Potter had told him he was in town for two weeks, but he still hadn't expected to see him just sitting on a bench in the middle of the street, staring off into space.  
  
So, after a pause, knowing he'd probably be bored out of his brain all day if he didn't, he sat down next to him and asked him if he was enjoying himself.  
  
And now they were sat on the grass in the play park area of 'Vicky' Park.  
  
They'd spent most of the walk in silence, passing through Queens Square on the way, occasionally asking some polite question, giving each other short, to the point answers. When they'd actually reached the park proper, he'd watched closely as Potter had shown obvious signs of enjoying himself, and the views, looking closely over almost everything.  
  
It was interesting to watch the reactions of someone who had never seen a place so familiar to yourself. It was doubly interesting to watch those reactions coming from Potter. There was something about him that made it impossible not to watch him. Potter's enjoyment was almost infectious.  
  
He'd watched in silence as Potter's green eyes had lit up with enthusiasm, as a smile broke the sombre expression, looked on in mild confusion as he took photos with the muggle camera - and annoyance as he had his own photo taken a few times - and listened as he talked, about this being his first real holiday and the way he was actually enjoying himself for the first time in weeks.  
  
Then potter had bought them an ice-cream each, and sat under the tree, watching the children playing in the play area. He'd sat next to him, in mild surprise at having had an ice-cream thrust into his hands, and now they were sat in silence, eating and watching.  
  
He caught himself three times watching Potter lick the ice-cream, out of the corner of his eye, and once even thought he saw Potter looking at him.  
  
"So - how's the holiday going so far?"  
  
Draco looked up. He shrugged, "Fine I suppose. Bloody Crabbe and Goyle are off with their families, mom's being no end of trouble, and the mansion's getting stuffy."  
  
Potter nodded, "Ah, so that's what you're doing in Bath then?"  
  
Potter had said it as if he had finally got the answer to a question that had been puzzling him. "Yes. I'm staying in a hotel for a while, getting away from it." He licked a bit of melted ice-cream from his hand, "Blerge," he commented with a slight grin.  
  
Potter laughed lightly with a strange expression on his face, then shrugged and continued with his own.  
  
"So how's yours then?" Draco raised a quizzical eyebrow. He watched as Potter's expression darkened and hunched his shoulders slightly. "That bad, huh?"  
  
"Malfoy, you have no idea."  
  
Draco was a little perturbed, but persisted in the question until Potter leant back against the tree and lifted his eyes to the cloudless sky.  
  
"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but, you're here, so I may as well. You've heard the rumours about my family I take it?"  
  
Draco nodded, there were a good few, one or two started by himself in the early years, though the more reputable ones he'd heard stated such things as Potter living in a cupboard till he was eleven, being used as a slave by his uncaring aunt and uncle and not having a single friend until he'd started at Hogwarts. He had actually laughed them off as ludicrous, thinking them made up to discredit him, as his own had been, surely Harry had a great home life? He was the damn hero of the wizarding world!  
  
"Well, the one about living in a cupboard is true, I lived in the cupboard under the stairs until Hagrid turned up, now I live in the smallest bedroom. I wasn't exactly a 'slave' though, more like someone to fob off all the unwanted jobs onto, and I never had friends until Hogwarts - all the other kids were too scared to go near me because of my cousin."  
  
Draco looked a little shocked, but Potter smiled, "The other rumours, such as beatings and chains and stuff, they're not real, and I can hazard a guess as to who started them."  
  
Draco felt a little uncomfortable under Potter's gaze.  
  
"Anyway, since I started at Hogwarts, they've gotten a little better, but not by much. Which is why I'm not really enjoying the holiday. Uncle Vernon, big git that he bloody is, booked me into a tiny little room and kept the key, which is why I was in a bad mood when we met the other day, I couldn't get back into my room till they returned from doing whatever they're doing."  
  
Draco looked at him in silence, "First day? So you've got the key back now?"  
  
He watched as Potter grinned, "Yeah, after dinner the first night, I cornered him and my aunt in front of the entire hotel and asked for them."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly to himself as he finished the ice- cream. So Potter really had had a crap life, well that threw out the window anything he'd previously thought about him. Well, nearly everything. He still thought he had nice eyes.  
  
He was a gimp, but he had nice eyes.  
  
'Blerge' he thought to himself. 'That's bloody Potter you're thinking about, you know, your schoolyard enemy for the past six years?' He rolled his eyes at himself.  
  
He glanced at Potter and found him looking at him. He'd also finished his ice-cream and was now sitting with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely round them. The t-shirt he was wearing pulled tightly over the wiry muscles, the trademark of a Seeker. For a moment their eyes locked, and then Potter turned away, looking down the hill at the children again.  
  
"Why are you being so civil?"  
  
Draco was slightly shocked by the question. It was one he'd been thinking about himself for the past couple of days. He shrugged, and when he noticed Potter wasn't looking, he said "Don't know really, didn't feel the need to be so annoying while out of school I suppose."  
  
He watched Potter carefully, when he nodded, he relaxed and settled back a bit, still keeping an eye on the raven haired boy sitting a few inches before him and to his left. He thought about when he really had hated Potter. He had hated him for so many years, but over the past two, he had realised it was pointless, they were growing up and soon would be going their own ways, and what would he have to remember from his school years?  
  
He had thought about it a lot, and come to the conclusion that maybe having some normal memories from school may be better than seven long years of constant arguing, fighting, insulting and rumour mongering. Last year, to the consternation of his house, he had cut down on the arguing and insults, but it hadn't been easy, as Potter had been particularly touchy in sixth year. According to rumour it was because of a death in the family during the same fight that had gotten his father thrown into Azkaban.  
  
When he'd first seen him the other day, he had felt the need to at least try to be his old antagonistic self, simply for the sake of keeping up appearances. But he had found that after an entire year of trying to be better than he had been, he'd been absolutely unable to come up with anything more than a remark about mudbloods.  
  
At the time, of course, he'd been rather indignant with himself, but on the way back to his rooms, he'd thought it out, and now knew that being civil to Potter was going to be part of him whether he liked it or not. If only to save the last year of his schooling.  
  
He came out of his reverie as Potter began rummaging in his bag. He watched interestedly as Potter pulled out a small notepad and a biro then scribbled something on a clear page. When Potter was done, he tore the page out, folded it and handed it over.  
  
"Here, that's where I'm staying. If you get bored over the next couple of weeks or something." Potter shrugged, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly, and then stood, slinging the bag back over his head and shoulder.  
  
"Thanks Potter." He read the note, "Pultney? That is expensive. I should think even your cheap rooms not too shabby."  
  
Potter grinned, "Yeah, it's alright really. See you around then, yeah?"  
  
Draco nodded and watched as Potter walked away, back the way they had come. A moment later Potter turned slightly and waved, a strange smile on his face, then continued on.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry found he had enjoyed himself today. The first few hours exploring Bath in the tour bus, and wandering around the Roman Baths had been a great start to the day, and then meeting Malfoy -  
  
That had been different. He had never thought he would ever enjoy being around the blonde, but today. He smiled to himself as he walked; remembering the way Malfoy had licked the trail of ice-cream from the back of his hand. It had made him shiver and to cover it, he had forced a laugh and turned away, trying to hide his embarrassment.  
  
He couldn't believe he had sat there and actually told Malfoy anything about himself, even if it was only confirmation of a few rumours and minor information on how his holiday was going. But he had felt good for talking, for getting the little things off his chest, and he had felt good talking to Malfoy full stop.  
  
It had been pure impulse when he had written down his hotels address and handed it over, but he had felt that if anything, Malfoy just wouldn't give it a second thought.  
  
He hoped Malfoy would use the address at some point, as he was getting used to the new version of his old adversary. He realised now that Malfoy had been changing over the past year or so, and it only now hit him because he didn't have Ron constantly telling him how much he hated him.  
  
He got back to the hotel on autopilot, still thinking, grinned at the receptionist - an expensive looking man this time whom he thought handsome in a rather plastic way - and went straight to his room, closing and locking the door behind him.  
  
* * * *  
  
The fourth day found him sitting on the huge grass lawn in front of the Royal Crescent after exploring the restored house on the end of the street.  
  
He was lying on his back, staring up at the sky, relaxing and wondering what to do next. He had his head propped up on his bag and hands folded over his chest, he had taken his glasses off, as the heat had kept making them slide down his nose, so he couldn't see particularly well, but he didn't mind, he was only looking at the white blobs above him.  
  
He closed his eyes momentarily, listening to the sounds of American and Japanese tourists not too far behind him. They made him smile, the American's constantly blundering around, and the Japanese making interested noises at almost everything.  
  
He'd been fortunate enough to have been following a few round the restored house, it had been an interesting learning experience, both in the beauty of the house and in the nature of tourists.  
  
He sighed; realising there really was very little else to do now he had seen most of the tourist attractions. He thought he could maybe get a bus somewhere, to see the rest of the county, but without really knowing the time tables, he may get stranded. He didn't really relish the idea of trying to find somewhere to sty the night in any of the neighbouring towns.  
  
He heard movement, and without quite knowing how, he new it was Malfoy. He opened his eyes and there he was, standing over him, looking down, his straight blonde hair falling over his face, obscuring all but his eyes. Though most of this was lost on Harry without his glasses.  
  
He reached out and picked them up, sticking them in place, squinting against the sunlight to get a better look at the boy standing over him.  
  
"Hey Malfoy."  
  
* * * *  
  
Oh - sorry for the gap in uploading - I'm actually banned from the net at the moment - but I'm cheating as no-ones in the house oo;;  
  
Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up sometime tomorrow ^^  
  
Hannah  
  
And thanks to all who reviewed! ^^ 


	6. Chapter 05

All characters in this story are © J.K.Rowling and I am making no money from writing this. Please respect that the situation and story itself is mine, thank you.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Hey Potter. What are you doing sleeping in the middle of a field? Dingy little hotel room not good enough for you?" He favoured the other boy with one of his most dazzling smiles.  
  
Harry laughed that light laugh of his and patted the ground near him, "Nah, this is much nicer. Siddown? Views great."  
  
After a pause, Draco did so, lying near him, but not so close that they may accidentally touch hands or something, and looked up at the sky putting his hands behind his head, crossing his ankles.  
  
Harry glanced over at him; Malfoy was wearing a turtle neck again, made of some material that clung to the contours of his torso rather fetchingly. He felt rather inadequate in the baggy jeans and t-shirt he had had to wear since early childhood.  
  
"You're right, it is a nice view. A little bright, but nice."  
  
He found it strange lying there looking at the view with Malfoy. Of course, a week ago he would have found the very thought of talking to him without even having a small argument very strange.  
  
Looking Malfoy over again a question occurred to him that he finally felt he could ask after years of wondering about it, "How the hell do you manage it?"  
  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off the sky, "How do I manage what?"  
  
"How do you manage to look like, well, that?"  
  
Malfoy grinned, "Natural style and impeccable grooming Potter, I'll understand if you have problems with those words."  
  
Harry frowned and rolled his eyes at the sky, then looked at the other boy out of the corner of his eye, "It's just the way you always manage to look like you've just stepped out of a boutique or something. You look like you've got your own bloody stylist."  
  
Malfoy grinned again and hoisted himself onto his elbows, giving Harry a quick head to toe look, "No offence Potter, but you look as if you get dressed in the dark, without your glasses."  
  
Harry wrinkled his nose and looked down at himself again. He scowled then looked at Malfoy, "Dudley's hand me downs. I don't have enough money to buy myself anything better." He pointedly raised his eyebrows at the blonde.  
  
Malfoy appeared to ignore the unspoken jibe at how well off his family was, "Not my fault my families rich. Anyway, surely you've got enough galleons to buy new wizarding clothes? Your parents weren't exactly poor."  
  
Harry frowned a little, "They left me enough, yes, but it's all I've got and I need to conserve it."  
  
Malfoy's forehead wrinkled, a little fetchingly, "Why?"  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows, "Because it's not going to last forever, and I'll need some money to live off until I get a job. I suppose that's something you never had to think about."  
  
Malfoy lowered himself to the ground again before answering, "Not exactly, but like I said, I can't help it if I come from a rich family."  
  
Harry forced himself not to snort at that, and instead asked, "I suppose your father never let you want for anything either, for that matter."  
  
Harry noticed Malfoy tense slightly, "Again, not exactly. Even when my father was" he paused, "home, he wasn't particularly forthcoming when it came to money. Or anything else for that matter."  
  
"At least he was there," Harry caught himself mumbling.  
  
"Not at the moment, obviously," Malfoy replied just as quietly.  
  
Harry felt anger rise in him at the words. He didn't intend to, but he found himself growling his next words at the blonde lying so close to him, "It's his own fault and he deserves it after everything he's done, or did you just conveniently forget that?"  
  
Harry immediately regretted his words, but he couldn't help himself, somehow the mild bickering had brought back his old feelings of hatred for the Malfoys. Of course, he knew he was the one who started it, by mentioning the elder Malfoy in the first place. He wished he hadn't, but he had, and now he was riled, and the younger Malfoy was the one getting the full assault.  
  
He saw Malfoy had tensed up slightly, as if he was about to speak, but he interrupted him, trying to make himself calm down. Sitting up he said, rather more harshly than he meant, "Forget it."  
  
Malfoy opened his mouth to speak again, but again he interrupted, much to the other boy's obvious consternation, "I said forget it."  
  
Malfoy started tearing grass up and shredding it, then picked up a leaf and started systematically shredding it, letting the pieces fall onto his chest. They stayed like that for a while, in complete silence, just the noise of Malfoy ripping the leaf to pieces to be heard.  
  
After a few minutes, Malfoy spoke, quietly and quickly, just in case Harry tried to interrupt him again, "You're acting as if I was in on it all. Loath as I am to admit it, I've never known what was going on until afterwards, when he would whine about your having survived."  
  
Harry glared at the grass in front of him, arms wrapped tightly round his raised knees, clutching the sleeves of his light and rather old jumper, trying, but failing, to ignore what Malfoy had just said. "Did you not hear me?" he muttered through clenched teeth.  
  
"I'm selectively deaf."  
  
"I'm sure you bloody are."  
  
"It's a Malfoy thing."  
  
Harry almost bit his tongue. "It's always a bloody Malfoy thing."  
  
"Not true. Sometimes it's a Potter thing."  
  
"What?"  
  
Malfoy grinned, "A Potter thing."  
  
"What the hells 'A Potter Thing'?"  
  
"Obstinacy."  
  
"Obstinacy."  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Fuck this." Harry tightened his grip on his sleeves and closed his eyes, not noticing the hurt look on Malfoys face.  
  
They stayed silent for a long while, Malfoy still shredding leaves with an annoyed expression on his face, Harry ignoring everything around him, the noise of the methodical shredding grating through his nerves.  
  
He turned on Malfoy when he heard him pick up a new one, "Would you stop bloody doing that?" he shouted, startling the other boy and standing up. He wished he could keep his temper in check. In his fifth year, it had gotten him into a lot of trouble, and last year, well, last year he wasn't sure what he had done, whether he had constantly lost his temper or just done the entire year in some sort of daze.  
  
But it was proving all too hard these days to keep his temper in check. He was constantly reminded of the pain of loosing Sirius, or the fate that awaited him when he eventually met Voldemort, even of the danger his very being represented to his friends and their families.  
  
When Malfoy returned to shredding the leaf, studiously ignoring Harry's last comment, he almost burst with annoyance and said something he would regret for the rest of the day.  
  
"You're just like your damn father!"  
  
Malfoy stopped mid shred and finally looked up at Harry, their eyes locking for a moment. He realised what he had said, and then realised what he had said had touched on a nerve, and he wished he hadn't said it. He silently cursed himself for loosing control of his temper again.  
  
Malfoy dropped the leaf and brushed the shreds off his chest, Harry watching his every move, then said, "Take that back Potter."  
  
Before he could help it, Harry found himself angrily continuing on, though he knew he shouldn't, "Going to follow in his footsteps? Join the Deatheaters? I'm sure he'd love that."  
  
Malfoy gracefully climbed to his feet, brushing grass and leaf shreds from his clothes. He had an air of calm about him that unnerved Harry, but his pale eyes were smouldering furiously. Before Harry knew what was happening, he had a hold of his jumper front, almost lifting him off the ground, tearing the old material slightly.  
  
"I'm sure he would be pleased, Potter, but I have no intention, nor did I ever have any intention of genuflecting before that vile creature they dare call 'Lord!'"  
  
At this statement, full of unsuppressed rage, Harry stammered, trying to at least apologise for his words before the blonde did him any more damage.  
  
"Shut up!" Malfoy actually lifted Harry from the ground for a second, and both were mildly surprised at the loud tearing sound as Harry's jumper front tore, but Malfoy continued.  
  
"You just don't get it do you? You don't know me; you don't know who I am! You know nothing about me, or my family! Just hearsay! Rumour! That's it! You walk around in your group of admirers, all high and mighty, judging me, when you.. when you.."  
  
He finished with a growl of rage and Harry felt himself dropped, his light jumper now torn right down the chest, as Malfoys hand went slack. He stood, stunned and utterly ashamed, watching as Malfoy stalked away, angrily pushing aside a couple who had witnessed the whole thing.  
  
Harry stood watching the other boy as he left, upset and weary and wishing that this afternoon had gone differently, that the argument hadn't happened, that Malfoy hadn't found him at all.  
  
It seemed to him, now, that the tentative beginnings of a friendship had been torn asunder, never to be remade. And it was entirely his fault. He sighed, watching the now distant figure move back into the main city and sat down.  
  
He didn't know how long he sat there, contemplating what had happened, but when he looked up, rubbing his cold arms, it was getting dark. The sky was turning a darker shade of blue, and the people who had been sitting around the grassy area had dwindled down to only a few.  
  
He looked around, realising he ought to get back and slung his bag over his head and shoulder, clutching at the strap that crossed his chest. He stood for a moment, thinking back, wandering where Malfoy was, and then set off, following the same path the blonde had taken earlier.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco seethed. How dare Potter say that to him? Idiot! He knew nothing, absolutely nothing! He was nothing like his father, and he deplored the thought of anyone making the comparison.  
  
He looked up. The sky was darkening, he'd been wondering through Bath for a while, without quite realising where he was going, just letting his feet take him, not caring where he went or who he bumped into.  
  
Lost in red tinted thoughts, he literally did bump into someone. He didn't apologise, and barely looked at whomever it had been, but he noticed it was a muggle boy maybe a year or two older than himself, with two others standing near him. He blinked, and continued on, oblivious to their angry shouts behind him.  
  
'Fucking Harry Potter.. What the hell was I thinking?' He closed his eyes for a second, squeezing them shut, as if in pain, his brow wrinkling, then opened them again and found himself walking down an unfamiliar alley.  
  
He looked around, and then realised there were footsteps behind him, approaching rapidly. He turned, startled, just in time to realise that the boy he had walked into and his two friends had followed him here.  
  
Before he knew it, he was caught in a scuffle with the boy he had bumped into.  
  
"Get off me muggle!" For a second he had his hands free and instinctively reached for his wand, but he remembered at the last second the rule about underage wizardry. "Shit!" and he right hooked the boy instead.  
  
The older boy went down, but the other two took his place, and Draco found himself getting overwhelmed. He landed a few punches, and was sure he kicked the shorter of the two between the legs, but he knew he would eventually lose this fight if he didn't have some help soon.  
  
"Bloody grab him!" he heard one of them shout, but he wouldn't let them. He felt his fists connect again and again, and he even bit someone's hand as they tried to get a strangle hold.  
  
He pushed one of the boys off, catching a fleeting glimpse of a bloody nose, and then attempted to wrestle off the remaining two, but with a gasp he felt his back suddenly crushed against a stone wall, his head connecting with it briefly.  
  
With flashes of light shooting behind his eyes, he felt his arms pulled up his back as they pulled him away from the wall. He nearly bit his tongue with the pain in his arms, as they were pushed further and further up his back, two of the boys effectively rendering him immobile.  
  
He looked up at the boy standing in front of him, looking at him through the continuing flashes of light. The boy was grinning, despite the black eye Draco had given him.  
  
"So, let's see what you have then."  
  
Draco suddenly felt the muggle boy's hands searching his pockets, obviously looking for anything valuable. He cringed at the thought of them finding his wand and he looked up, searching anywhere for help.  
  
His eyes rested on the alley mouth. Just as something connected once again with the back of his head, he saw a figure, silhouetted in the failing light.  
  
He recognised Harry a second before the world went black.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
I'm saying right now, that this was one of the hardest chapters I have ever had the misfortune to make myself write o0 I'm just not good at writing arguments oo; In fact - I even enlisted the help of my best friend and we sat down one evening with a different coloured pen each to get even a semblance of an argument between the two of them oo;  
  
If people ask for it, I'll put up the original transcript before putting up the next chapter ^^ - what do you think? It's quite amusing really oo; I was playing Harry, Becca was playing Draco, and we were constantly falling into fits of giggles and talking about reactions between the two characters and so on between writing ^^  
  
Anyway - poor Draco eh? oo; That fight also proved hard to write .. but not so hard as the argument ^^;  
  
You'll find out what happens to him in the next chapter - which will be a darn sight easier to write than the majority of this chapter was ^^;  
  
Hannah  
  
P.S  
  
sorry this has taken so long to get up - I was banned for a while, and am now also allowed only limited access to the net - this coupled with the difficulty in writing the argument made me spend a lot longer on it than previously thought oo;  
  
My next chapter should be up a lot quicker than this one oo; 


	7. Chapter 06

All characters © J. K. Rowling whom I completely respect and adore ^^ I am making no money from writing this, it's just for my and others amusement.  
  
* * * *  
  
The boy swirled through black mist, feeling light and airy, not remembering where he was, who he was. He was simply a pair of eyes, taking in the comforting void around him, feeling warm and content. The mist wrapped round his unseen body like a warm duvet, he felt the slight pressure on his limbs, but still could not see anything other than the void.  
  
He eventually saw a light above him, and his eyes fixed on it as the only thing to watch. He slowly began to feel drawn to it, irrevocably, as if his invisible body was being pulled by a string.  
  
The light was stark, almost clinical in his view, a bright white colour that held no comfort, he didn't know what it was, but he felt apprehensive at his approach. He struggled, trying to fight it, but he was only a pair of eyes, he couldn't fight, anymore than he could fight the helpless feelings of distress that overwhelmed him.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco slowly came to consciousness, still wrapped in the feelings of helplessness. He didn't open his eyes, fearing what he would see if he did.  
  
He squeezed his eyes tightly as his memory began to return to him, his brow wrinkled as the last few moment before he blanked out passed behind his eyelids.  
  
"Malfoy?"  
  
He heard his name whispered, just loud enough for someone listening closely to hear. He stirred slightly, but kept his eyes closed, still not wanting to see where he was.  
  
"Malfoy? D - Draco?"  
  
He noticed a pause between his two names, the person whispering to him stammering the word 'Draco' as if it was unfamiliar. It was strange to hear, no one ever spoke his name like that.  
  
He opened his eyes. They resisted and he was groggy, but he opened them and blinked, looking around. His vision was blurred, he couldn't see much at all - if he had been in any mind to think about it, he would have if this was how Potter saw without his glasses on.  
  
There was a pale pink blob topped by a raven one a few feet away.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
He closed his eyes again and when he reopened them he could see properly. He realised the blob was Potter, kneeling on the floor a few feet away with a worried expression on his face, in his dark green eyes.  
  
"Potter?" He croaked, his throat feeling clogged, "What the hell?"  
  
He realised he was lying in a bed, a not uncomfortable, slightly too soft, bed. He quickly glanced around the room and realised where he must be.  
  
He sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. He groaned and clutched at his throbbing head as pain shot through it, blinking lights flashing before his closed eyes.  
  
"Here Malfoy, take these."  
  
He opened his eyes again, taking note of the fact that Potter had returned to his surname when addressing him. He was holding out a glass of water and two dusty looking white pills. He let his hands fall into his lap and looked at them suspiciously, one eyebrow raised, "What are they?"  
  
Potter sighed, "Just take them; they'll help with the headache."  
  
Draco reluctantly took the glass and pills, he looked at Potter again. Catching on, the other boy explained with another sigh, "They're muggle headache remedies, and actually work very well before you complain."  
  
When he hesitated, he saw Potter roll his eyes at the ceiling. Defiantly, he swallowed them and gulped down the rest of the water, feeling parched, then handing the empty glass back to Potter.  
  
He watched as the other boy moved away, taking the glass with him, to what must have been the bathroom. He lay back when Potter vanished from sight, and looked at the ceiling, listening as Potter moved about in the bathroom, turning the tap on. He listened to the water as it rushed into the sink, and as he presumably cleaned the glass.  
  
He could see vague shadows on the ceiling from people walking past in the street outside, and he could hear muggles playing some sport or other, possibly on the far side of the building, shouts and high pitched whistling could be heard.  
  
When the water stopped running and Potter came back in he looked over at him.  
  
"Why muggle pills, and how did I get here?" he asked the questions quietly as his head was still throbbing.  
  
"Because we can't use magic and I carried you." Potter put the newly filled glass on the bed side table and sat down with his back to the wall under the window.  
  
* * * *  
  
A long while later, after Draco's headache had begun to subside, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked over at the raven haired boy who appeared to be dozing, his head leant back against the wall, eyes closed and pointing to the ceiling.  
  
"What the hell am I doing in your bed Potter?"  
  
The boys eyes remained closed as he quietly answered, "Had to take you somewhere after the group beating. I didn't want to risk the long walk to a muggle hospital."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow again and looked around the room properly, taking it all in. It was indeed as small as Potter had said, much smaller than his own, and decorated in a very out of fashion style. Besides the bedside table there was only one wardrobe and a chair.  
  
He glanced at the chair, wondering why Potter was sitting on the floor instead of it and blinked. As well as there being a very torn jumper hanging over the back, the one Potter had been wearing during their argument; his clothes were neatly folded on the seat.  
  
He lifted the duvet and glanced under.  
  
Thank god he was still wearing his underwear.  
  
He looked over at the dozing boy again, "Potter. Why are my clothes on that chair, instead of about my person, where they belong?"  
  
Potter grinned, his eyes still closed as if he meant to doze his way through the entire conversation. Still annoyed about their earlier argument, Draco was becoming infuriated by the behaviour.  
  
"You were a lot beaten up, so I had to remove them to get at you. They're ruined by the way; you'll have to borrow some of mine."  
  
Draco scowled, that had been one of his favourite tops, it made girls swoon as he passed them, as well as men drool. He made a mental note to hunt down those muggles who had accosted him.  
  
He blinked, suddenly noticing something. Potter had a black eye. He hadn't noticed until now as his glasses were effectively obscuring it. He thought a moment.  
  
"Just exactly, how, did you get me back here? Last thing I remember is having my arms nearly broken." He rubbed his arms now, ruefully, they were still tender, which made him notice the other aches over his body.  
  
From the feel of it, he also had a mild black eye, as well as various other bruises and scrapes, over his chest, shoulders and legs. Touching a finger to his lip, he realised it had been torn, but was now healing well.  
  
He heard Potter stir, and looking over, saw that his emerald eyes were now looking at him with concern.  
  
"I - had to fight them off you. When I first found you they were going through your pockets, one of them nearly found your wand before I hit him. It was a short fight really, the other two, who had been holding you up, dropped you and ran for it. Left me to beat seven colours of shit out of the other guy."  
  
He saw Potter grin a little at the look on his face. He immediately tried to make his face impassive once again.  
  
"Then I half carried and half walked you here. The guy at reception just thought we were drunk, even helped me get you into the bed."  
  
Draco snorted slightly, Potter, beating the shit out of someone? When, and more importantly, how, had he learned to fight? He looked down at the boy again and asked him.  
  
His eyes still open, Potter grinned as he replied, "Dudley. He never was a fair fighter. Taught me every trick in the book. Pretty sure he never meant to though."  
  
"This cousin of yours sounds like a lot of fun." He muttered, looking at Potter. He had closed his eyes again and just smiled in response.  
  
Draco shook his head, slightly frustrated, and swung his legs off the bed, sitting up properly. He ran a hand through his hair then looked at it. There was still a little blood drying in the fine strands.  
  
"Yeah, I got as much off as I could, to get at your wounds mind, but I think you'll need a shower."  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow at the boy sitting on the floor, wondering why, after their argument, he had even bothered.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco found the bathroom almost intolerably small, but remarkably neat. It seemed Potter had a thing about his possessions, the toiletries were neatly lined along the shelf above the sink - including a strange looking thing that startled him, when he accidentally turned it on, by buzzing loudly, he reckoned it was some sort of shaving device - and the towels and flannels were neatly folded onto the rails.  
  
Inside he noted the same care and attention; the shampoo, conditioner and shower gel had all been placed neatly in the hanging shelf, along with a strange net like sponge thing.  
  
He shook his head with a small smile, thinking all the neatness must have something to do with Potters being almost blind without his glasses on.  
  
He locked the door and dropped his expensive boxers on the edge of the sink, his smooth skin gleaming slightly in the harsh unnatural electrical light. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and raised his eyebrows. His normally perfect skin was blemished with a large yellowing bruise over his left shoulder, reaching down the left side of his chest.  
  
He looked away again and reached into the shower, trying to set it on warm, it gave him a few minutes of trouble, as he wasn't used to muggle contraptions, but when he had it he stepped gracefully and gratefully into the stream - closing the glass door behind him.  
  
He stood for a while, hands resting on the wall either side of the temperature gage, his head bowed, just letting the water rush over his body, caressing his sore skin and aching joints, various grazes and cuts stinging slightly, reminding him that he was alive.  
  
He ran a hand over his bruised shoulder, trailing the fingers down over his chest. It was sore and very tender after the warm water had heated it. He pushed himself back from the wall, no longer leaning on his hand he stepped back, looking up and letting the water run over his face.  
  
After a moment he began checking his body over, slowly realising a lot of care had been taken in cleaning his cuts and grazes, it was almost as if Potter had known exactly how to do it, had had practice doing it.  
  
It brought images to his mind of Potter sitting in the dark under the stairs, fighting back tears as he treated his own wounds after a beating from Dudley.  
  
Despite himself he realised it was kind of sad.  
  
He closed his eyes for a moment and then grabbed the shower gel, trying not to think about it.  
  
* * * *  
  
When he was clean and had stood under the water for a long time, he shut the shower off with one quick movement and stepped out of the shower cubicle. He grabbed a small towel and stood rubbing his hair, getting as much of the water out of it as he could while still being gentle with the sore areas at the back of his head.  
  
He briefly rubbed himself down and then wrapped the towel round his middle, unlocking the door a second later. Stepping back into the main room the colder air tingled and raised goose bumps all over his body. He shivered slightly and looked around.  
  
His eyes rested on the newly made bed where a light jumper and baggy jeans had been lain out neatly, obviously for him. He looked around again, stepping up to the bed, and realised the room was empty. Potter was gone.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry listened to Draco in the bathroom for a moment then got up and began tidying the room. He had already removed any signs of his 'doctoring,' the blood covered cotton balls and sterile wipes and so on were all in the bin.  
  
He had literally been worried about Malfoy while he was out of it. He had wished he would wake up, so he could stop worrying that maybe her never would. Now and again through the hours he had even thought of contacting a doctor, but he hadn't.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure why, but he reasoned it had something to do with them both being wizards, and Malfoy waking up in a hospital would have been hell. At least this way Malfoy could just hate him for the argument and seeing him almost naked, and not for getting muggles to sew him up and treat him with strange muggle concoctions.  
  
Yes. This was definitely preferable.  
  
He made the bed, with half an ear on the bathroom - the shower was running now - and then rummaged through his clothes for anything that would suit - and fit - Draco. He paused, half way through his tops, suddenly realising he'd thought of him as Draco rather than Malfoy.  
  
He frowned at himself for a moment, then shrugged it off and fished out a baggy long sleeved jumper like top in grey. It looked about the right size, and the colour shouldn't be too offensive to the boy. He then fished out a pair of jeans slightly too small for himself that would hopefully fit the slightly shorter blonde.  
  
He laid them neatly out on the bed, Draco's shoes placed on the floor near them and listened intently to the bathroom. It sounded like he would be in there for a few minutes longer, so he slipped his feet into his own shoes and grabbed the bag of money from the draw on the bedside table.  
  
He paused at the doorway again, listening, then left, closing the door quietly behind him. He needed to get some food, so was planning on taking a quick walk down to the newsagents as he'd missed breakfast, and the hotel didn't do lunch.  
  
He smiled at the expensive looking woman who was once again at reception as he walked hurriedly past and out the door. The air was crisp today, not as warm as it had been the day before, and there was a bit more cloud coverage to top it off.  
  
He hurried past people who looked hurried themselves, most dressed in suits and carrying briefcases, and he reached the roundabout quickly. He skipped past a few cars going across rather than round and stepped into the newsagents.  
  
The old woman behind the counter smiled at him as he walked down one of the aisles, looking at the food, wandering just what it was Draco would eat. After a few minutes of fruitless wandering and thinking, he picked up three different sandwiches, three different drinks and two milk-chocolate bars, hurrying to the till.  
  
He paid and with a smile stepped back into the street, hoping Draco was still in the shower, or if not, that he had the presence of mind to at least stay in the hotel room. He walked back just as hurriedly; passing more harassed looking people and stepped into the reception.  
  
He stopped short, his eyes widening. His uncle was standing talking to the receptionist. There was no way he was going to be able to get past them without being seen. He tried anyway.  
  
Just as he was sneaking past, his uncle turned and spotted him. "Harry?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously, "What are you doing?"  
  
Harry realised he looked rather silly, and very strange to his uncle, who probably thought he was acting too weird to be seen in public with. He stopped and looked at his uncle, "Uncle Vernon. I'm just taking some lunch back to my room."  
  
Vernon looked at the bag he was carrying. It was overflowing of course, with all the food he'd bought. Harry hoped he would just let him go without questioning him.  
  
Vernon wrinkled his nose, making his enormous moustache fluff up. "Fine. We will be meeting my co-worker in three days time for a meal. Be sure to be in this reception at seven o'clock, pee em. No later, as we will be leaving by taxi."  
  
Harry watched as his uncle stalked off, back to his own rooms, and finally breathed. He grinned at the reception lady and almost ran back to his room, relief showing plainly on his face. He unlocked and opened the door and hurried inside, hoping the other boy was still there.  
  
He closed the door again and leaned against it a moment, his eyes closed, then he looked around. Draco was standing by the window, looking at him, one eyebrow raised. He was wearing the clothes he'd lain out earlier, and despite them being a little old, they suited him, the grey jumper almost matched his eyes.  
  
Harry blinked, "Hey. Better?" he stood up properly and dumped the bag on the bed as Draco turned to face him.  
  
"Much. Where the hell were you?"  
  
Harry sat on the bed, kicking his shoes off across the room into the corner and picked the bag up. "Didn't know what you liked, so I got a selection." He glanced at the sandwiches, "Uh, chicken salad, egg mayo and BLT."  
  
Draco dropped onto the bed next to him, one eyebrow still raised, "'BLT'?"  
  
Harry grinned despite himself, remembering wizards tended not to know much about muggle food, "Bacon, Lettuce and Tomato."  
  
"Ah." The blonde leant back against the wall and looked at him. He shrugged, "We missed breakfast, and dinner last night, so I thought you'd be as hungry as I am. Which do you want?"  
  
He watched as Draco wrinkled his nose, quite cutely he thought, as he made a decision. "Chicken salad sounds alright," he held it out to him and the blonde tore it open and started eating hungrily, but delicately.  
  
"I'm still pissed off at you about yesterday you know." Draco spoke between mouthfuls, so the sentence came out a bit disjointed. Harry hung his head slightly as he ate the egg mayo, "I'm sorry."  
  
He heard the springs creak slightly as Draco moved, but didn't look up.  
  
He saw the wrapping of Draco's sandwich fly past and straight into the bin. They sat in silence for a while, Harry wordlessly handing over the drinks for Draco to choose which he wanted and one of the chocolate bars.  
  
He threw his own wrapping in the bin and took one of the two drinks left and sat drinking it in silence. Eventually he heard Draco move again, the bed creaking slightly as he did so. Draco's delicate hand came into view and Harry looked up.  
  
"Thanks for the clothes. And the save. But I got to go."  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
* * * *  
  
Thanks to everyone for all the new reviews ^^ and onlyHaunted - I don't have a thing against Americans - it's just the amount of tourists you get in Bath, they ALL act like that ^^ I've been to many places in America myself, and probably acted just the same ^^ It was just a social comment ^^ *grins*  
  
Sorry this is such an ordinary - almost nothing happens - chapter, I just wanted to write how they reacted to each other after the argument oo; So I apologise - though I hope the Draco shower scene makes up for it ^^ Also - sorry you don't get to read Harry kicking arse - but I hope you get the general idea from his explanation - I never intended on writing his side of the fight - so don't feel cheated ^^  
  
Anyway - There's still nine days of holidaying left, so things will start hotting up (in more ways than one) and guess what? Harry's 17th is coming up ^^  
  
Oh - and Uncle Vernon happens to Harry oo;  
  
To be continued ^^ 


	8. Chapter 07

I absolutely adore J. K. Rowling's works - and all characters here are © her ^^ I am making no money from this, only friends and conversations ^^ Please respect my original story though.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry rolled over in the bed Draco had occupied merely hours before, staring at the moving lights and shadows on the ceiling, wondering what the other boy was up to.  
  
After the blonde had left, Harry had sat on the chair in frustration, the torn jumper clenched tightly in his hands, annoyed with himself for no discernable reason. Annoyed at Draco for just leaving.  
  
He hadn't enjoyed the meal that evening, even less than he had previous evenings, as his uncle had kept looking at him with some strange emotion not yet recognisable smouldering in his eyes. He had no idea what this new emotion was, but he had a feeling Vernon knew Draco had stayed the night. He had an uneasy feeling that that was what Vernon and the receptionist had been talking about when he'd seen them earlier.  
  
He rolled over and glared at the wall across from him, watching a patch of moonlight slowly make its way up the wall and on to the ceiling.  
  
'It must be getting early' he mused, staring at the patch of light. He closed his eyes, trying to get to sleep. But it wasn't working, he kept thinking that anything that had been growing between Draco and himself, was now thoroughly over. The next time he would see the blonde would probably be September first, and things would have returned to normal.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco woke and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to figure out why his body ached. Then memory returned to him and he sat up determinedly.  
  
He crossed the room, refusing to think and rummaged through his belongings, searching for something that he had packed just in case, something he always packed, just in case. He smiled grimly when he found it. A small tub of salve, bought in Hogsmead a couple of years back.  
  
He sat down and removed his shirt and began rubbing it over his shoulder and chest, smoothing it into his skin, then spread a small dab over and around his black eye, wincing slightly. He checked his other wounds and spread the remaining salve over those. Then he sat back and admired his work. Every last one of his wounds was gone, healed magically, with no sign that they were ever there in the first place.  
  
"Much better" he muttered, throwing the empty tub in the bin next to his dresser. He caught his own eye in his reflection in the mirror on the ornate dresser. The black eye was entirely gone.  
  
At the sight of it he wondered if Potter had any healing salves. He guessed he didn't, the boy lived with muggles for goodness sake and seemed to treat his own life as if it were nothing, so why on earth would he have anything like this?  
  
He shrugged and dressed, still refusing to think about anything, pottering around his large, ornately decorated and vaguely decadent hotel room. Eventually, when he was dressed, he flopped onto the overstuffed sofa placed before the hearth.  
  
That was the thing about being a Malfoy, he reflected, he could afford a hotel that looked vaguely like home.  
  
As he sat, his mind finally turned to the one subject it had been trying to avoid all morning. Potter.  
  
His mind flew back to the last time he'd seen the raven haired boy, when he had closed the hotel room's door. Potter had looked almost miserable, though he'd said goodbye cheerfully enough, and Draco couldn't help but think it a little strange.  
  
He sighed and leant his head back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling as if it contained all the answers. That was when the image of Potter's badly torn jumper slung over the back of the chair came to him.  
  
Bloody hell, he'd really done that. He'd lifted Potter off the floor. And in doing so, torn his jumper right down the front. He blinked at the memory and realisation dawned. Potter was still angry at himself over upsetting him. That was why he'd been so glum the day before when he left.  
  
He realised he wasn't angry with Potter anymore. That argument had been silly, and stupid and nowhere near as bad as some they'd had over the years at school. The only thing that had really riled him was the mention of his being like his father, and he was vaguely aware that Harry was already repentant over that slip.  
  
He didn't notice the way his thoughts turned from calling the other boy Potter to Harry in the space of only a few minutes, and barely even registered the decision that made him stand and search for his money pouch.  
  
While searching he tried to remember when it was Harry's admiring fan-girls had said his birthday was. When he had the pouch and was putting it in his light backpack, he remembered. It was tomorrow. For goodness sake, it was tomorrow. He made a sarcastic face at himself when he caught his eyes in the mirror again and almost slammed the door behind him as he left.  
  
* * * *  
  
He grinned at the receptionist as he passed, heading straight for Harry's door without so much as a 'could you show me the way.' A second later, he was knocking loudly on the door, "Hey, Potter, get your arse up and open this door."  
  
He listened hard and heard movement, possibly some grumbling and then the door opened and a very bedraggled looking Harry, still wearing his pyjamas, (light, red, wrinkled and slightly young looking), stood glaring at him. He had his glasses on slightly skewdly and was blinking furiously as if he'd just woken up and the light was irritating him.  
  
Draco grinned when Harry started staring. "Wha.?"  
  
"Are you going to let me in or what?" and he stepped in, Harry closing the door behind him with an incredulous look on his face.  
  
As he made himself comfortable on the stiff chair near the window, Harry began studiously making the bed, as if embarrassed at being seen with it in such a mess. Draco grinned to himself as he glanced out of the window, putting the other boy out of his misery for a moment.  
  
When he judged Harry to be done, he turned back and folded his arms. The other boy was sitting on his now made bed staring at him with undisguised surprise in his green eyes. "So, did I wake you up?"  
  
Harry blinked and nodded.  
  
"Sorry," he grinned again, "But I'm taking you shopping, so you'd better hurry and get dressed." He raised his eyebrows when Harry hesitated, "Oh go on already, call it an early birthday present. And I won't look."  
  
With that he returned to looking out of the window.  
  
When Harry was dressed and had his bag slung over his head and shoulders he got up and smiled rather disarmingly. "Off we go then."  
  
They passed Harry's uncle on their way out. Harry's uncle turned out to look a lot like a walrus, just with more whiskers. He knew who it was as Harry breathed, 'Uncle Vernon' when they caught sight of him standing in the foyer talking to the receptionist. He noticed Harry went slightly pale, but just gave Vernon a resolute glare and continued walking; acting as if the man wasn't there.  
  
"Shit, I think he's getting."  
  
Draco looked at Harry as he muttered. "Pardon?"  
  
"Vernon. That's twice I've seen him talking to the receptionists now. By the looks he was giving me last night, I think he's going to kill me or something." Draco saw the worry in his eyes. "And now he's actually seen you, I think he's going to get worse."  
  
Draco raised both eyebrows. "What's wrong with him seeing me?"  
  
He looked at Harry when he paused, and he noted the dejected look that passed over his still mildly pale face. "I'm not supposed to be enjoying myself, and I'm not supposed to meet anyone from school - anyone with 'peculiarities' like mine."  
  
Draco started to get the idea, "You mean he doesn't want you meeting up with witches or wizards?"  
  
They passed the roundabout, skirting a couple of parked cars as they did so before Harry responded. "My uncle hates my very existence, and he considers my being a wizard something of a threat to his livelihood. He and my aunt are obsessed with being seen as normal by everyone around them, and I don't fit into their plans. My meeting someone 'like me'," Harry said the words sarcastically, "makes them jumpy and think that people's views of them will change. It scares the shit out of them that I've been doing as I wish these past few days."  
  
Draco frowned; once again realising Harry's life was nothing like he'd believed it to be for so many years, "Your relatives sound like a bore."  
  
Harry only nodded, looking distracted. Draco lead the way for a few minutes until they reached the shopping street and pulled Harry into a muggle clothes store, a sly grin crossing his lips, pale eyes twinkling a little mischievously.  
  
He looked at Harry carefully as they stood in the middle of the store, surrounded by muggle fashions. He watched as Harry blinked and looked around, the distracted look disappearing from his face.  
  
"Uh - Draco? Why are you doing this?"  
  
Draco was slightly shaken by Harry's use of his first name, but didn't show it. "I said - early birthday gift. Oh - and I wanted to replace that jumper I wrecked." He grinned happily, looking around at the wide selection of clothing.  
  
"Early -?" Harry suddenly looked very surprised. "Oh my god. It's my birthday tomorrow isn't it?"  
  
Draco, who was looking at a selection of shirts that looked like they'd suit the slightly taller boy, raised an eyebrow, "Don't tell me you forgot your own bloody birthday?" He picked out one of the shirts and held it up to Harry, the coat hangers hook nearly colliding with his glasses. "Oops."  
  
It didn't look right, the colour was wrong. He glanced at Harry, the boy was clutching at the bag strap that crossed his chest, looking a little crestfallen. "I forgot my birthday. I can't believe I forgot my birthday. I mean - I never really look forward to it, but forgetting it?"  
  
Draco raised his eyebrow again as he fished out a different coloured shirt, a deep red, and held it up to him. Much better. He dumped the shirt in Harry's arms and moved down the row a bit. "You don't look forward to your birthdays?"  
  
He looked at Harry and saw him shake his head. "If you'd gotten nothing for your birthday every year until you were twelve, not even had it acknowledged, while watching your cousin get anything he wanted, and more, for his every year, you'd not particularly look forward to your birthday either."  
  
He pulled out another top, an emerald green long sleeved t-shirt with white Japanese symbols down the right hand side of the chest, and held it up to Harry's still form. The colour matched his eyes perfectly at the moment. "True, I probably wouldn't. But you must have been getting things from people over the past five years?" He dumped that top into Harry's arms as well.  
  
"Well, yeah, and I love the cards and presents I get, but I'm still not entirely happy about my birthdays. I probably never will be." Draco heard him pause as he looked at the next rail of tops. "But forgetting it altogether? I can't believe I did that - even you bloody knew it."  
  
Draco paused in the process of picking out a light blue short sleeved top and looked back at the other boy who stood looking thoroughly flummoxed. He locked eyes with Harry a moment, then shrugged and pulled the top out, holding it up to him for inspection, "I remember hearing a group of fan- girls mentioning it a year or so back." He put the top in Harry's arms along with the others and moved on.  
  
Harry followed him, trudging slowly along with the tops held awkwardly in his arms. Draco thought it looked rather endearing, but shook the thought off, continuing to look at the clothes. He picked out a light material jumper in a light grey colour, similar to the one he had torn the other day and held it up to him. Harry frowned at it, as if suddenly remembering their argument. "I thought you were still pissed off with me anyway?"  
  
Draco dumped the jumper into Harry's arms, on top of the others and replied shortly, "I'm not anymore." He picked out two more tops and dumped them in Harry's arms and moved over to the trousers section, grinning to himself at the look of mild terror on Harry's face.  
  
He held up a pair of smart looking black trousers against Harry, they looked the right size and black suit pretty much everyone, so he dumped them on top of the tops and headed for a pair of what looked like comfortable summer trousers. They were grey green, and made of a light material. He held those up and then dumped them in Harry's arms.  
  
As he moved to another row of clothes Harry asked him, with a slightly muffled tone, "Just how much are you planning on getting?"  
  
He picked out a pair of jeans and dumped them in Harry's arms on top of everything else with a grin, "Oh I dunno. How much do you want?"  
  
He watched as realisation dawned in Harry's eyes. "You mean, these are all for me?"  
  
"Yupp. Like I said, birthday present." He picked out another top made of soft material with very long sleeves. It was a deep red, almost the same colour as the shirt he'd first picked out, and put it on top of the pile, watching as Harry raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Come on. Changing rooms are this way."  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open for a second, then he appeared to rally himself and followed him to the rooms at the back of the shop. "You're not even getting yourself anything?" Draco heard the incredulity in the other boy's voice and shrugged, taking the numbered hanger off the shop assistant. He shoved Harry into one of the curtained cubicles before replying, "Not at the moment."  
  
* * * *  
  
"I feel like an idiot Draco."  
  
The blonde looked up at Harry as he stepped out of the fourth cubicle that day. He was wearing what he called 'combat style' trousers and a smart long sleeved t-shirt. Draco knew nothing about muggle fashion, only enough to get by when in the muggle world, but thought he looked rather fetching.  
  
"You certainly don't look like one. I don't think the trousers are you though."  
  
He was standing in front of the floor length mirror, inspecting his reflection. At Harry's insistence he had selected a few things for himself and was now wearing a sleeveless black t-shirt and suit style trousers in steel grey. He felt he was getting a liking for muggle clothes, they certainly did more for the figure than robes, the trousers were clinging nicely and the top showed off his torso and arms quite well.  
  
He saw Harry staring at him in the mirror, when Harry noticed him returning the look, he blushed and ducked back into the cubicle. Draco blinked. Harry had been wearing a strange expression, almost like, he mused for a moment, longing, but not exactly.  
  
He stepped back into his own cubicle and changed, with a thoughtful expression on his face, back into his own clothes. When he stepped out again, Harry was already there, loaded down with bags, and the new clothes folded neatly over his arm, his hair even more ruffled than usual due to all the changing they'd done that day. He grinned at the slightly taller boy and hefted his own bags and folded clothing.  
  
"Got what you like?" he asked cheerily.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry stepped into his room and gratefully dumped his many shopping bags on the bed.  
  
Today had certainly been surprising. Not only had he completely forgotten it was his birthday tomorrow, but he had also just been dragged all over town and round clothes stores by Draco Malfoy.  
  
It had to be one of the most surreal things that had ever happened to him. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it, he'd actually had fun once he'd gotten used to the idea.  
  
He flopped down on an empty bit of the bed and sat looking at the bags. Nothing in any of them had been paid for by him. Everything had been bought by Draco. Everything. Definitely surreal. He shook his head and leaned against the wall, wondering how the hell he was supposed to fit all this new stuff into his meagre suitcase, or get it all past the Dursley's for that matter.  
  
After a few moments reflection he began sorting through and tidying away all the new clothes. It took a good half hour or so, but he was satisfied when he was finished. He reckoned that if he folded very small and neat, he could fit everything into the small suitcase - provided he threw out a couple of the older and more threadbare of Dudley's hand me downs.  
  
He was stuffing the empty plastic bags and tags into the bin when there was a knock on the door. Looking at his watch he realised it was getting late and wondered who it could be.  
  
He climbed to his sore feet and crossed to the door. As he reached it there was another burst of knocking, and he recognised the sounds, it was uncle Vernon. He paused for a moment, his hand mere inches from the handle, apprehensive, a little scared even.  
  
"Harry, open this door - now."  
  
His uncle wasn't shouting, but the words were clearly spoken and just loud enough to be heard through the door. He knew he was in here. On any normal day, Harry would simply have swung the door open and glared daggers at the man, but for some reason, right now, he didn't want to talk to him.  
  
He pulled himself together and grabbed the handle, turned it and opened the door just enough to peer through, "Yes uncle?"  
  
Uncle Vernon glared down at him, his moustache bristling, "Let me in."  
  
Harry was a little unnerved by the calmness exuding from the man, but opened the door and stepped back, letting him in. This is ridiculous, he reprimanded himself, this is just uncle Vernon, the behemoth you've lived with for the better part of sixteen years, what the hells wrong with you?  
  
Uncle Vernon motioned for him to close the door and he did, though reluctantly. He looked at the older man standing in the middle of his room, looking around. The presence of his uncle actually made the room look smaller, he dwarfed the furniture and blocked the failing light of the sun coming through the window.  
  
He suddenly wished he hadn't already placed his wand in the bedside table drawer.  
  
"Well," his uncle turned to look at him, "So, this looks nice."  
  
Harry nodded mutely.  
  
"Who's the boy?"  
  
Harry frowned slightly, quizzically, then shrugged, "A friend."  
  
Uncle Vernon's face went slightly red, "A friend. A friend from where exactly?" Harry noticed he was keeping his voice calm, but there was a throbbing vein at his temple.  
  
Harry blanched slightly, but uncle Vernon continued, "The two of you seem awfully chummy. So I think he's a friend from - from - that freak show place you go every year."  
  
Despite himself, Harry nodded, slightly.  
  
"He stayed over the other night, did he not?" Uncle Vernon turned to look at him and their eyes locked. "Don't lie to me boy." There was now a distinct growl to the mans voice.  
  
"You know how your Aunt and I feel about you and your - peculiarities, and over the past few days you have been trying our, my, patience." His voice was rising with every word, "You have been flaunting yourself all over the place these past few days, and I am getting sick of it."  
  
Harry tried to speak in his defence, but Vernon interrupted him, going even redder in the face. "You may be seventeen, and you may have one more year under my care, but until the day you leave, you will obey my rules!" Harry tried to step back as uncle Vernon grabbed his left upper arm, "You will not bring that boy back here again and you will not go gallivanting around making fools of your aunt and me!"  
  
Harry tried to release his arm as his uncle's grip tightened, his voice still getting louder with every word, though it was not yet loud enough to raise suspicion in other parts of the hotel. "I will not stand for it!"  
  
Harry struggled again, trying to break the tightening grip, but it was useless. His uncle's face was mere inches from his own now, and he couldn't bite back his own words of fury, "I'll be glad the day I leave! You're all bastards, racist bastards! And I can't wait till the day I get to move out and live in the wizarding world where I belong!"  
  
"Fine! But until then, you do as I say!" There was a second's pause as Harry struggled harder, "Stop that this instant!"  
  
And before he knew what was happening his uncle's grip tightened horribly and he felt himself flung away. He hit the wall next to his window and collapsed onto the bedside table then the floor.  
  
There was a moment's silence, broken only by his uncle's deep breathing. He chocked slightly, from where he lay, unable to hold it in.  
  
He heard his door open and then slam shut, but stayed where he lay, hands clenching, fighting back the tears. If only he'd had his wand. If only he'd been old enough to use it. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and listened to his own ragged breathing, feeling as if his heart were about to explode through his chest.  
  
After a while, when he felt he could move, he climbed onto his hands and knees, panting slightly, one hand clutching his left side where he'd hit the bed side table after colliding with the wall. He could still barely believe it, barely believe that his uncle had done this to him, but behind the disbelief there was a part of him that wasn't surprised, a part of him that had been expecting this for some time.  
  
He sat up carefully and slowly climbed onto his bed. He stretched out, wincing slightly, and closed his eyes, again fighting back the tears.  
  
It wasn't fair. Only a few minutes before, he had been happy. He had had a good day, he had enjoyed himself with Draco - against all the odds - had felt something between them that made him almost giddy. But now.  
  
He felt like the day had been just a pleasant dream, something fleeting that was now slipping through his fingers.  
  
He found himself wondering what Ron and Hermione were up to. They were probably having a great evening, enjoying themselves at The Burrow perhaps with the rest of the Weasley's.  
  
He curled up into a ball and wished he was there.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Well now oo;  
  
Um ^^;  
  
Poor Harry oo; But don't worry too much, things get better for him oo;  
  
I had fun writing this chapter ^^ I used my best friend and myself as a basis for the shopping spree (I normally walk around holding clothes up against her while she watches horrified ^^) and this actually turned out to be one of the easier chapters to write ^^; Though I must admit I had a little bit of a problem with the uncle Vernon/Harry argument. thing oo;  
  
Sorry to leave you all on such a depressing note oo;  
  
Right -  
  
ANNONCEMENTS :  
  
I am leaving to go on holiday for about two weeks on Saturday - so this will not be updated for the duration. I will however be writing (on paper - argh) the next chapters - there are still at least six more to go (knowing me it's probably closer to nine) - and hopefully when I get back there will be an influx of updates ^^  
  
SPOILERS :  
  
Harry and Draco do finally get kissing in future chapters - and much, much more ^^ There will also be DE's present as well as a small conspiracy and Vernon and Petunia will get their comeuppance.  
  
There you go - hope that's enough to whet your appetites until the next update.  
  
I truly apologise for the length of time between THIS chapter and the next oo; I forgot I wouldn't be able to update again for so long oo;  
  
SORRY!  
  
To Be Continued  
  
Hannah 


	9. Chapter 08

Well - I'm back from the holiday ^^ And I've got so many chapters banging around in my head it almost hurts oo; so - this is Chapter 08 and I hope you enjoy it everyone! ^^  
  
The characters in this are © the absolutely awesome J.K. Rowling, but the story is mine ^^ pretty please be nice to it and feed it such things as reviews and it may just keep growing ^^ *pats it lovingly on the head*  
  
* * * *  
  
'Dear Harry,  
Happy Seventeenth! I know I'm not supposed to send you an owl while you're in the middle of a muggle hotel, but Dumbledore gave me permission, and even if he hadn't, I would have anyway.  
  
Ron and his family all say 'Hi!' and 'Happy Birthday!' and they wanted me to tell you that they've got your presents waiting, as have Hagrid and I.  
  
I really hope you enjoy your birthday this year, despite being stuck with the Dursley's again (and on holiday with them no less) - which reminds me, I hope the holiday isn't too bad and that you manage to visit all the places I wrote to you about. Bath really is a fascinating place, I've been doing some reading up and it turns out the town has some strong magical history.  
  
Our holidays are going great by the way; I'm going to The Burrow next week and hope to meet you there as usual so you can tell us all about your trip to Bath. Ron and I are getting on very well, despite Fred and Georges frequent interruptions (they tried to transfigure one of my letters to him recently - apparently Mrs Weasley was not very happy with them) actually, speaking of the twins, they are both being very mysterious recently, even I can't figure out what's going on with them.  
  
Before I go, (I've got to get this written quickly), I should remind you that now you are of legal wizarding age and can practice magic outside of Hogwarts, that you need to be careful. Please try to restrain yourself from hexing your cousin, I doubt it would go down awfully well with Dumbledore, and please make sure, absolutely sure, that no muggles see you if you do decide to try magic before the end of the holiday.  
  
I do look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks, so enjoy what remains of the vacation and please be sure to get Ron something or I'll never hear the last of it.  
  
Love Hermione.'  
  
Harry sat back against the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest - wincing as he did so - scanning Hermione's neatly written letter. It was just after midnight and he was reading by the muted light of his bedside lamp.  
  
He had first heard the tapping on the window at the stroke of midnight and still groggy with sleep, had thought it part of his terror filled nightmare, but it had continued insistently until he had opened his eyes.  
  
Shocked at the sight of the owl sitting impatiently on the small window box, he had limped over to the window as quietly as possible and opened it.  
  
The owl hadn't stayed, only swooped in, dropped the rolled parchment and then flown straight back out into the crisp night air again with a mournful hooting that caused Harry to look agitatedly about, listening for any movement within the hotel. When satisfied he had rubbed his sleep filled eyes and opened the letter with such fervour that it had almost ripped in his sluggish grip.  
  
Now he was clutching it in trembling hands.  
  
Not only had he forgotten his birthday, but he had forgotten the significance of it, for gotten that seventeen was the age of legality. He was now allowed to practice magic outside school, so long as he stayed within the law and prevented any muggles from noticing or becoming suspicious.  
  
His heart began to beat very fast as the realisation swept over him.  
  
Leaning forward, Harry fished his wand out of the drawer on his bedside table, then he leant back again, looking at it, almost examining it. He could use it now, if he wanted to.  
  
Shit. Oh shit.  
  
If only Uncle Vernon had waited just one more day before confronting him. Just one more.  
  
Harry closed his eyes and leant his head back against the wall, remembering what had taken place only hours before. If only -  
  
He shook his head, sadly, and placed both the wand and Hermione's letter in the drawer. After a moments reflection he curled back up under the duvet, clutching his aching side.  
  
* * * *  
  
"He THREW you into a wall!?"  
  
Harry, clutching his side again in pain, nodded, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the ground near Draco's feet.  
  
They had met up only moments before in a small square with a balding patch of grass and enormous tree wrapped in old Christmas lights in the centre. At first he had tried to hide the fact that he was in quite a considerable amount of pain, but overnight it had worsened slightly, he'd woken up with breathing difficulties that Draco had instantly picked up on. With an eyebrow raised the blonde had forced an explanation out of him.  
  
"Yes. I landed on the bedside table. It's not too bad, I'm just,"  
  
Draco interrupted him, "You're 'just' nothing! That man, if such we can call it, ought to be thrown into Azkaban and left to rot! I can't believe Dumbledore makes you spend your summers under his 'care'!"  
  
Harry was a little taken back at the outburst, this was the kind of thing he expected Ron to shout - hearing it from Draco Malfoy was a change in pace that he hadn't been prepared for in the least.  
  
"The next time I see that muggle Bastard I am going to hex him into oblivion! He won't bloody know what it him! Now come on."  
  
With that - and way before Harry could even think to react - he found himself being gently but firmly propelled through the back streets, past happy looking tourists, French, German, American and Japanese, and harassed looking locals, until they were standing outside Arcadia.  
  
Harry shot Draco a questioning look, but the other boy propelled him through the ever open doorway without comment.  
  
Henry was standing behind the counter again, wearing a different set of robes this time, flicking through a muggle spell book, an odd smile on his face that disappeared the instant he looked up and saw the boys.  
  
For a moment Harry tried to remember what colour Henry's were the last time he'd seen the man, but the thought left his mind when he saw the shocked expression on his face. Harry smiled grimly as they passed, clutching his side once more, following Draco to the wizarding section of the store.  
  
A short time later both the boys were standing in front of the medi-magic section, Draco muttering to himself in pissed off tones as he sorted through the myriad concoctions on the shelves before them.  
  
Harry didn't comment as Draco began placing things in his free arm, just watched as the blonde picked out painkillers, healing salve, Skelereparo and Soothement. He glanced at the prices and frowned, for a moment forgetting his pain, "Draco, I can't afford all this - I'll just get the pain killers ok?"  
  
He made to start putting them back but suddenly felt the blonde's hand on his wrist; He looked up and saw Draco's cheeks were flushed slightly.  
  
"Firstly - I'll get them, you need all of it. Secondly - I really meant what I said about your uncle, and thirdly - I'm taking you out tonight. You need to do something fun this summer and I can't see it happening at the Weasley's nor your uncle's place. Now - let's go pay for this lot."  
  
* * * *  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
They were sitting on a bench outside the Abbey, watching the tourists passing by in varying groups. Draco silently watched Harry as he rubbed his side. A few minutes before the bespectacled boy had gulped down the required amount of Skelereparo potion with a disgusted look on his face.  
  
The potion itself was akin to Skelegrow, a potion Harry said he had had to take in second year after Lockheart had removed his broken bones for him; apparently they tasted almost identical, though Skelereparo worked quicker.  
  
Harry had also spread some healing salve over his fading black eye, at Draco's insistence, and it was now completely gone, vanished without trace, he had promised would do the same for the bruising on his side when he returned to the hotel and could actually get a moment alone to check the bruising and reach it all without missing spots.  
  
"A bit better. My ribs just tickle at the moment - bruises hurt a little though."  
  
Draco nodded as Harry fell silent again, staring at the passing crowds, only half attentive to the shouts of children and harassed parents. He sat back, still looking at the melancholy raven haired boy, somewhat relieved that he was alright.  
  
His anger at what Harry's uncle had done was simmering away inside him, waiting for release, his earlier threat to hex the man still fresh in his mind, though much worse fates than a hexing came unbidden to his mind as he sat in contemplative silence.  
  
The very thought of Vernon Dursley made him see red, and all images of retribution came to him red tinted. Ordinarily he hated, truly loathed, any mention of domestic violence and often felt perpetrators should be thrown into Azkaban. Now that Harry had told him of his uncle's actions the night before, he felt true rage and wanted to be the first to get his hands on the man.  
  
He shifted his gaze to Harry's face as he felt the other boy stir next to him.  
  
"Thanks Draco."  
  
He blinked, folded his hands in his lap, "What for?"  
  
Harry shrugged ever so slightly, "For trying to cheer me up. And everything else."  
  
Draco kept his eyes on Harry's face and suddenly felt something pass between them, felt something neither had yet notice make itself known. He opened his mouth to say something.  
  
There was sudden movement in the crowds around them, muggles looked up, pointed, a few squealed either in delight or fear none could tell. The few wizarding folk in the crowd screamed in true terror and either ran or disapperated, causing new movement and shocked reactions from the muggles.  
  
Both boys turned and looked to where the muggles pointed, surprised by the reaction of the few witches and wizards around them.  
  
The Dark Mark was hanging in ugly vista above the Abbey.  
  
* * * *  
  
There was chaos almost immediately, witches and wizards from the ministry began apparating around the crowd, herding back anyone who had seen the Mark and fled, until every single muggle who had witnessed it's sudden appearance was safely ensconced within a protective magical field, stopping them from fleeing once more.  
  
Auror's apparated their way into the Abbey itself and found nothing more untoward than an elderly muggle priest floating near the high ceiling, unconscious, but otherwise unharmed. The parishioners that had been in the Abbey when the attack took place were all found unconscious at the head of the large room, also unconscious.  
  
Harry and Draco watched from a smart distance as the muggles were herded up and the Ministry officials made ready to set up a memory charm en mass.  
  
Harry blinked when he caught sight of one of the Auror's.  
  
A young woman, not really much older than Draco and himself, was walking towards them, what caught his eye was her sky blue hair and sparklingly pink eyes.  
  
"Tonks?!"  
  
He could almost feel Draco's eyebrow rise at the sound of her preferred name.  
  
"Hey Harry!" Tonks walked a little faster, a grin on her face that slowly faded as if she suddenly remembered the severity of the current situation.  
  
She stuck her hand out in greeting when she finally reached them, shaking Harry's hand vigorously and then gripping Draco's as she inquired after an introduction.  
  
"Draco's a - friend - from school."  
  
Draco was immensely courteous; showing his breeding without hesitation or embarrassment as he properly introduced himself with a slight bow that took Harry and Tonks both by surprise.  
  
"Charmed," Tonks said, obviously flattered, "Anyway, I can't stop long, but I saw you up here and couldn't resist. Messy business really, bloody DM appearing in the middle of a muggle city at this time." She shook her head, apparently very annoyed at the timing of such an occurrence, "But the Muggle Relations guys are sorting things out as we speak, memory charming the lot of them. Of course, we needn't do anything much with those that were inside, they were all out cold when we found them."  
  
Harry's own eyebrows rose, "Was anyone hurt?"  
  
"Nah, found the priest near the ceiling though. Only thing that's got us stumped is that no one was killed."  
  
From the look on Draco's face Harry reckoned he wasn't used to such an open manner when it concerned the doings of Death Eaters. Before either boy could say anything more, Tonks continued, "Now, Harry, the reason I broke from the group when I saw you was that I thought after a week up here on your own, you might like me to convey some messages?"  
  
Harry blinked, thought a moment and, "Uh, yeah - tell Hermione thanks and that I've already got one for him, and Professor Dumbledore," he paused, swallowed and tried again, "Tell Professor Dumbledore, Uncle Vernon,"  
  
Tonks interrupted him, her sky blue eyebrows disappearing into her fringe, "Um, Yeah, we know about that. Suffice to say Dumbledore's been keeping an eye on you, and he's rather incensed by what happened last night."  
  
She suddenly turned to Draco, "Actually, now it comes to it, he wanted me to tell you 'thank you', for helping Harry earlier."  
  
Draco, who had been leaning against the wall, his arms folded, apparently listening to the conversation with deep interest, straightened, mild shock evident on his face.  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yupp. He said there'd be a boy with Harry if I saw him, and that he wanted me to pass on his thanks. Didn't know it would be the Malfoy boy though." She smiled, "Thanks from me as well."  
  
She turned back to Harry and clasped his hand again before casting a look back at the crowd of muggles and Ministry officials. "Sorry Harry, but I gotta go. I'll tell Hermione what you said, and see you in a week or so."  
  
With that she turned and paced quickly back to the other Auror's. Within minutes the muggles were all back to normal as if nothing had happened, and the wizarding folk had disapparated.  
  
There was absolutely no sign, now, that the Dark Mark had been floating above the Abbey at all, and certainly no muggles would remember its sudden appearance. The crowd returned to its prior occupation, screaming children and harassed parents making their way through the square.  
  
Harry looked over at Draco and found his own expression mirrored in the blondes face.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco placed a bottle of butterbeer in front of Harry and sat down across from him, taking a sip of his own. "Wonder what the hell the Death Eaters were doing in Bath Abbey?"  
  
They were sat at a table in the far corner of a respectably sized wizarding pub named The Alchemists Head. It was a place Draco often visited, as it was the only one of its kind within a manageable distance of his home, plus he felt comfortable being there, sitting in the shadows at the back of the room watching the other customers.  
  
He watched Harry take a sip, a slight frown puckered his forehead into a half dozen small creases - an expression Draco didn't see on his face very often. "I have my suspicions. But I suppose we'll never know."  
  
Draco raised a delicate eyebrow at Harry's words and took another sip. "Who was the woman with the blue hair?"  
  
He watched as Harry smiled, almost lazily, "Nymphadora Tonks. She prefers Tonks."  
  
"I don't blame her. What's with the hair? And the eyes?" He felt like being blunt at the moment and kept an eye on Harry's reactions. He cocked an eyebrow again, ever so slightly, when Harry only smiled again.  
  
"She's a Metamorphmagus. First time I met her she had short spiky violet hair, then turned it bubblegum pink. She has this party trick where she morphs her nose by request. It's quite funny - if you're in the right mood."  
  
"Metamorphmagus? Never thought I'd meet one. She's an Auror then?"  
  
They talked like this for a couple of hours, passing from topic to topic fluidly, though mostly sticking with the strange happenings at the Abbey. Draco discovered it was actually fun to just sit and talk with the boy about normal things, even if he wouldn't tell him how he knew an Auror personally.  
  
Eventually they made their way to the only wizarding club in the city - as Draco had promised they would - still discussing the sudden appearance of the Dark Mark, trying to figure out what the Death Eaters were up to.  
  
The Black Rose was another of Draco's favourite haunts, again because it was the only place within a manageable distance from home that actually held any interest for him. It was a large place, situated in the catacombs under the city, mirrors and Georgian style decoration could be found around every corner and there were live fairies flying around the ceiling, giving the place a multicoloured but soft lighting.  
  
In various nooks and crannies there were sofas, kissing seats and piles of cushions, poufs or bean bags, often surrounding small tables, sometimes just in corners alone.  
  
The drinks were cheap enough and the music played was a mix of popular wizarding and muggle to accommodate both purebloods and muggle born's, a fact that hadn't escaped Draco's attention, though he thought little of it.  
  
When it was nearing closing hour, Draco found he was lost. That hadn't happened since his first visit and must have been due to his getting drunk. He tried to make his way through the crowds, wondering where Harry had gotten too, completely missing the Daily Prophet reporter that followed him.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry had found himself a lonely corner, out of the way of the milling crowds and dancers, there were only a few fairies flitting about the ceiling, so it was relatively dark in his corner.  
  
He sat on the floor with his head resting against the wall, trying to block out the thumping sound of muggle music, wondering where it was he'd last seen Draco. His head was a little muggy, and his thinking was sluggish, so he reckoned he had drunk a bit too much.  
  
Despite that thought he brought the bottle he was holding to his mouth. It was empty, so he looked at it a moment, bringing the mouth of the bottle to his eye and gazing inside.  
  
"All gone," he muttered to himself and dropped the bottle carelessly on the floor between his feet. He looked up as a slim shadow passed over the floor, recognising the slim form as it moved to the wall next to him.  
  
"Draco. I think I'm drunk."  
  
"Me too." Harry looked up and saw Draco standing, leaning against the wall next to him.  
  
"Let's go Home."  
  
Harry felt himself hauled up, gently but firmly, by the other boys grasp and stood unsteady on his feet. They left together, arms over each others shoulders, trying to help each other walk, completely oblivious to the people watching them or the flash of a camera behind them.  
  
* * * *  
  
Through the muggy haze that was the alcohol he'd drunk tonight Draco slowly manoeuvred the key into the lock and pushed open his hotel door. He and Harry made their unsteady way into the room, dropping their respective bags without caring where they landed.  
  
Draco tiredly watched as Harry looked blearily around the room, obviously taking in the décor, the size and the amount of furnishings as well as the roaring fire at the end of the room.  
  
"S'better than my room."  
  
Draco wrinkled his nose slightly as Harry flopped onto his king sized bed, then moved over and made himself comfortable, back to the headboard, looking down at the raven haired boy lying at the foot, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"You got me drunk." He heard Harry say quietly, a slight slur to the words.  
  
Draco smiled to himself, feeling rather drowsy and more than a little content, the fact that Harry was slowly falling asleep on his bed didn't register as anything more than, well, right. He liked the idea somehow.  
  
He let himself fall to the bed properly, cradling his head on his arm, and looked over at Harry. He was surprised to find the other boy already looking at him.  
  
Quite without warning, Draco again felt that, something, pass between them. That sensation that made him want to -  
  
He reached out and gently brushed Harry's wayward fringe out of his eyes. Now he could see them properly, those piercing green emeralds that had entranced him from the first moment he'd seen them.  
  
Harry smiled at him, his eyes closing briefly. Draco didn't know how it happened, but they were only inches from one another now, pale blue eyes locked on green, both burning with something neither had yet acknowledged.  
  
Draco felt Harry's hand on his cheek, gently brushing a stray strand of his hair back behind his ear. He closed his eyes for a second, and when he reopened them, they were closer still.  
  
Before either could react, he closed the distance and brushed his lips over Harry's.  
  
Yes. That's what the sensation had been, a quiet longing to do this. For Harry to want to do the same.  
  
He brushed his lips over Harry's again, and felt the other boy respond, a moment later they kissed, slowly and gently, a little awkwardly. Draco felt the hand on his cheek slip, and a second or so later he was looking into Harry's sleeping face.  
  
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at one of the strangest sights of his life. Harry Potter, asleep, perfectly calm, vulnerable and trusting, on his bed. He smiled to himself as he watched the worry lines disappear from Harry's face and the innocence return.  
  
Harry really was a wondrous sight while asleep, every care that could be seen in his young face while awake was erased. Draco gently removed his glasses and placed them on the bedside table, then, switching the lights off, he lay down next to Harry and drifted off into a comfortable sleep.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
HOOHA!  
  
Oo;  
  
I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter ^^ I certainly had fun writing it ^^ Draco and Harry are at last starting to get it on and the mystery is finally introduced oo;  
  
And yay - I'm no longer on holiday! ^^ So I can get updating again ^^  
  
Thank you everyone for your reviews! Keep them up! I love reading them ^^  
  
Next - a surprise for both the boys and an interminably long dinner with Vernon's work mate oo;  
  
Hannah 


	10. Chapter 09

All recognisable characters are © her supremeness J.K. Rowling - I am getting nothing for writing this, other than a certain satisfied feeling ^^  
  
If you don't like reading slash/male-male relationships - what the hell are you doing reading this far into the story? I put a warning in the summary! Oo;  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco slowly drifted into consciousness.  
  
For some reason he was amazingly comfortable and there was a slight pressure over his chest. He opened his eyes and looked down.  
  
Harry was lying on his front, right arm hooked behind him, elbow pointed at the ceiling, left arm slung over Draco's chest.  
  
Draco smiled to himself as he remembered last night. He always had a perfect memory, even when drunk, so he wasn't surprised. For a moment he lay there, thinking about the feel of Harry's lips on his, trying to figure out what had possessed him and then wondered what had woken him.  
  
There was an insistent tapping on the window. Ah.  
  
He gently moved Harry's arm from his chest and sat up, as he did so Harry gave a gentle sigh and rolled over onto his side, Draco watched as a slight frown marred his normally smooth forehead, but it soon disappeared again to be replaced by that innocence Draco had witnessed the night before.  
  
He looked at the window as the owl began tapping more insistently and loudly.  
  
He climbed to his feet and crossed to the window, letting the owl in. He dropped the required amount into its money pouch and then dropped the Daily Prophet on the bed as he headed for the mirror.  
  
The muggle clock on the dressing table stated it was past nine. He wrinkled his nose slightly and glared at his reflection. His jaw line, chin and upper lip were lightly covered in his pale over night stubble. Muttering to himself he cast a simple shaving spell and then inspected his reflection again before turning back to the bed and the news paper.  
  
He lifted an eyebrow at Harry's face. 'Just great, I get lumped with downy fluff on my face every morning while Harry gets a proper beard. Bloody typical,' but he couldn't help smiling at the boy on his bed.  
  
He dropped down on the foot, careful not to wake the other boy up and opened the paper with a flick of his wrist.  
  
His mouth dropped open in surprise.  
  
"Oh bollocks."  
  
Half of the front page was taken up by a photo of Harry and himself leaving the club last night. He read the title in consternation.  
  
'Potter And Malfoy Friends?'  
  
He quickly looked for the page numbers and flicked through the pages to the actual article. He was faced with two more pictures, one of Harry and one of himself, both from their last school photos. Harry's image looked a little shy; his eyes kept darting around, as if looking for a way out of the situation, his own picture rather smug and slightly preening.  
  
He briefly wondered how the paper had gotten hold of their photographs, but then he dismissed the pictures and read.  
  
'Potter and Malfoy spotted together in Black Rose nightclub.'  
  
'Last night, after the despicable happenings in Bath Abbey earlier in the day, full story on page 2, people were unready for a second shock. It was given in the form of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, being seen with the son of Luscious Malfoy, a convicted Death Eater.  
  
'The two boys were spotted together late in the evening in The Black Rose, a popular haunting ground for many of our sons and daughters in the Avon Wiltshire area. The nightclub itself is a respectable establishment, and on any ordinary occasion we should not be surprised to see the young mister Potter within it's walls.  
  
'The fact that many witnesses reported seeing Potter and Malfoy at the club, enjoying both it's music and each others company beggars the question; have Potter and Malfoy put aside the animosity of previous years?  
  
'For it is well known that the two boys have not been friends, either because of the deep rooted enmity between their respective houses or because of the feelings held on the elder Malfoys part, it is not known, but last nights activities appear to prove that the two boys are no longer on disagreeable terms.  
  
'They even bought each other drinks, and at one point I saw them dancing. It was weird,' says local apprentice book keeper, Lawrence Arkwright. Madam Presley, of Thickwood, Colerne, agrees, 'They both looked pretty relaxed around each other, as if they were great friends and didn't care who saw them.'  
  
'Young Potter has often surprised the magical world over the years. Memorable instances being the disclosure of his ability to speak Parseltongue, his participation in the Tri Wizard Tournament, his acquittal at a full Ministry court when he used magic, underage, to defend himself and his cousin from an attack by two Dementors and his involvement in the capture of Luscious Malfoy and other Death Eaters during the attack on Ministry headquarters two years ago.  
  
So should we be at all surprised by this sudden turn of events? Harry Potter is a remarkable young man after all, so is it at all surprising that he should want to try and stop any ill will between himself and another young man, simply because said teens father chose the Dark?  
  
'Potter lived a lonely life until he began his schooling at Hogwarts. He had a surprisingly harsh time, while living with his muggle relatives, for someone so well known, and this seems to have given him the desire to create friendships wherever he goes,' says renowned psychiatrist, Dr Sharon Nollette, 'This desire becomes more apparent when we bring to light his continued encounters with He Who Must Not Be Named. As a result, Harry shows an inclination to bring as many people as he can to the Light. This may be the reason for his recent attachment to Draco Malfoy.'  
  
It is obviously apparent that Harry, after years of hostility between the two of them, has grown tired of it and taken steps to bring the younger Malfoy out of the shadow of his father's actions. To all concerned, this must be a joyous event, as another young wizard, on the brink of The Dark has been saved and will continue to live in the Light, helping in the fight against The Dark Lord.'  
  
Draco scowled at the pompousness of the author, Rowena Goodensnake, but found himself rereading the short list of 'memorable instances.' He hadn't known Harry had been taken to full wizarding court because of a simple bit of underage magic, and in the defence of his own and his cousin's life at that.  
  
He rolled his eyes as he rescanned the entire article, seething slightly at the sheer ignominiousness of the way in which he had been portrayed. And then it dawned on him. This was the bloody Daily Prophet; every damn wizarding family in the country would be reading this.  
  
"Oh shit, oh shit, Harry!"  
  
Harry jerked awake, his eyes snapping open. Draco swiftly handed him his glasses and waited slightly impatiently for him to wake up properly.  
  
"Wha's going on?" Harry rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, holding his glasses with the left as he pushed himself up on to his elbows. Draco watched, urgency radiating from every pore as Harry slipped his glasses on and looked at him worriedly.  
  
He shoved the paper into Harry's hands, "Everyone will be reading this as we speak! It's a disaster!"  
  
Harry read through the article, barely glancing at the two photographs, and then looked up, surprise etched into every line of his face. He dropped the paper on the bed and sat up, "Christ, why didn't we think? Ron and Hermione'll kill me, to say nothing of YOUR housemates."  
  
Draco picked the paper up again, scanning the article for the third time as Harry took off his glasses and ran a hand over his face, discovering the overnight stubble. He looked like he had a hang over. "Ugh, why didn't that batty cow think of what would happen to you?"  
  
Draco looked at Harry, an eyebrow raised, momentarily uncomprehending as his mind was filled with the curses and hexes he could throw at Goodensnake.  
  
"Half your bloody housemates have Death Eaters for parents! With this article out there, they'll have a great reason to do as much harm to you as possible. Voldemort himself will probably rethink his plans on you!"  
  
Harry flopped backwards back onto the bed and Draco saw an expression on his face that he hadn't seen before, certainly not in conjunction with himself at any rate. Harry looked truly worried.  
  
"I know that Harry, that's what I'm so bloody pissed off at! This woman needs a bloody brain transplant or something!" He sat heavily on the bed, nearly tearing the paper in two as he balled his fists while still holding it.  
  
"Draco, I'm sorry about this. It's my bloody fault, we should have gone to a muggle place, I should have known I'd get recognised in there."  
  
Draco shook his head a little helplessly. It wasn't fair, the moment he found someone he felt comfortable with, even if it was Harry, everything else goes to pot. "It's not your fault, so shut up. I was the one who took you there, completely forgetting you'd be recognised. It was a stupid mistake and now I've got to deal with the consequences."  
  
He felt Harry move into a sitting position and glanced over. The other boy still looked like he had a hang over, and he badly needed a shave, but there was tenderness in his tired over bright eyes.  
  
They both sat in silence for a while, distraught over the carelessness of Rowena Goodensnake, trying to figure out how to salvage the situation.  
  
After a long while Draco realised he didn't actually care. His fellow Slytherine's didn't worry him in the least. He didn't have any real friends there anyway, only people who fawned on him or followed his every whim.  
  
Over the past year he'd been slowly dropping out of the social circles anyway, because of their superciliousness, heartlessness, their wanton acts of depravity. It had begun to sicken him as he had grown up, leaving the actions of a young school boy and his school boy bullying behind him.  
  
The only two people to whom he still even spoke were Crabbe and Goyle, and despite what their parents were, they were not heading for Voldemort's side. They were a little thick, but they had a certain way of looking at things that made them too, well, nice, to be Death Eaters.  
  
He turned to Harry and threw the paper roughly at the floor, "You know? I don't even care. I'm glad that bloody woman wrote this stupid article. She just made it easier for me to tell the rest of my housemates to piss off."  
  
Harry looked shocked for a moment. "What? I thought you had friends there? And what about how they'll treat you?"  
  
Draco shrugged, "Crabbe and Goyle, though rather short on conversation, are the only people who treat me as a friend, the rest just fawn over me because of my family, and I can look after myself."  
  
Draco looked at Harry as the other boy slowly let this sink in. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
Draco saw that Harry was trying to give him the option of calling it quits on their budding friendship, and from the look in his green eyes, Draco knew Harry would understand it if he chose too, though it would hurt.  
  
Draco frowned, "I'm sure. Like you said, only about half of my housemates are linked with Death Eaters, the rest of them may be annoying, hedonistic and rather stuck-up, but they're not criminal. I can handle those who are."  
  
Harry just nodded and looked at the floor, relief showing slightly in his face. Draco wondered at it for a moment, and then shrugged it aside, in favour of the current situation.  
  
"What about you? You said something about Weasley and Granger."  
  
"Ron and Hermione," Harry corrected him, "My housemates will be rather scandalised. Before sixth year you weren't exactly nice to any of them."  
  
Draco nodded, he understood completely. Before sixth year he had been as terrible as ever, as at that point he had still held a great respect for his father and his father's wishes, even when his father had been particularly condescending or beastly, he had taken out his every petty jealousy on anyone he deemed pitiful, or anyone he simply felt like annoying.  
  
He'd mostly attacked Harry because his fame and obvious closeness to Weasley and Granger, promptings from his father at the time had facilitated his constant tormenting of the trio.  
  
Once his father had been removed from his life, he had sat down and thought things over, coming to realise that most of the animosity between the two of them was completely unnecessary, almost completely fuelled by his fathers own hatred of the Boy Who Lived.  
  
He had come to the conclusion that he would only ever retaliate, never start anything, as he looked over his memories of previous years and wanted a few, at least, that didn't include his arguing with Harry.  
  
And he had done it; he had passed the last year having only one or two mild confrontations with the boy, mostly because of comments made by Weasley. He had grown less belligerent as a result, and spent less and less time with any of his housemates who had true connections to Death Eaters, understanding that it would be one of the only ways to make himself less noticed by The dark Lord, which would bring him more peace.  
  
He looked at Harry, wondering if he should explain, but finding himself unable to bring the words to his mouth when those green eyes locked on his for a second.  
  
"They're going to want to know what the hell happened to me, or you for that matter, for this sudden change of heart. Ron'll probably think you did something to me, but I'm guessing Hermione'll be a little more understanding."  
  
Draco looked at the raven haired boy as he shook his head, as his shoulders sagged slightly. "The rest of the school I'm even less sure about, half of them will hate me, think I'm betraying them or something, the rest? I dunno."  
  
Draco took his turn to flop backwards onto the bed. He stared at the ceiling in apprehension of the next year of school, only a couple of weeks away now. Harry flopped next to him and he looked over silently.  
  
"Tell me," Harry asked quietly, "Did we do what I think we did last night?"  
  
Draco's eyebrows nearly hit his hair line. Of all the things he had been expecting Harry to say, that was on the bottom of a very long list. He cleared his throat and returned to staring at the ceiling, his pale cheeks flushing furiously.  
  
The bed springs creaked as he felt Harry move up onto his elbows. He looked up into his green eyes, "Um, yes we did." Still blushing furiously he found he wanted the bed to just swallow him up and get him out of this rather scary conversation.  
  
"I thought so."  
  
Again Draco was surprised, though less so. He had expected Harry to sound annoyed, or disgusted, or anything other than what he did sound, which was, well, happy.  
  
He sat up surprisingly quickly and stood, not looking at Harry as he made his way to the wardrobe. He saw Harry's reflection in the full length mirror as he opened the door, watching him with flushed cheeks, surprise and a little sorrow evident in his eyes as he sat up and dropped his hands into his lap.  
  
Draco, still blushing, picked out a clean setoff clothes. "You need a shave." He said over his shoulder, still refusing to look at the other boy, refusing to acknowledge the urge to rush over and run his hand over the rough overnight stubble and through that unruly obsidian hair.  
  
"I haven't got my shaver," He looked at Harry as the other boy spoke quietly, again running his hand over his cheeks, chin and neck.  
  
Shaking off the urge to grab that hand he asked, "Don't you know the spell?"  
  
Harry shook his head, confusion on his face.  
  
"I suppose you wouldn't, growing up with muggles. Here." He moved back over, the new clothes slung over his arm as he pulled out his wand. He pointed it at Harry's face, seeing the other boys eyes widen slightly.  
  
Moving the wand from right to left over Harry's face, he said "Abscido Pilo."  
  
Harry ran a hand over his now smooth face. "Uh, thanks." Draco found himself looking into those deep green eyes again, he blinked and was about to move away when Harry caught his wrist.  
  
Harry stood and Draco found their faces were once again only inches apart, "Um, Harry?"  
  
He blinked when the slightly taller boy smiled, "Thank you Draco."  
  
"What for?" He relaxed slightly, un-tensing the arm Harry had a firm hold of.  
  
Harry just smiled again and Draco felt the grip on his wrist lessen slightly, "For everything, for deciding to stay" there was a pause in which Draco sorely wished either his legs would move, or Harry would - his thinking stopped there, "for last night."  
  
"Well, you know, you needed it." He stammered slightly then shrugged, acting as normally as possible, trying to retain at least some of his dignity.  
  
Harry seemed to sag slightly and he looked at the floor a second, Draco felt his wrist released, "Where's the bathroom?"  
  
Draco didn't know what he felt then, but he knew he didn't like it, "Harry?" he spoke softly as the other boy took a step away. Harry stopped and before either boy knew what was happening, Draco leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips over the other boys.  
  
He stepped back, his heart pounding and then brushed his fingers over Harry's cheek, tracing down his jaw line and over his chin, brushing his lips with his thumb. He smiled, dropping his hand, "It's over there."  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry sat across from his uncle, glaring at him.  
  
He was at that bloody dinner that had been set up between his relatives and Vernon's work mate. He seriously didn't want to be here, he'd much prefer to be back with Draco, or failing that, in his own room.  
  
When he had seen his uncle again, at first he had been a little nervous, remembering the incident of only a day ago, but he had thought back on both Draco's and Tonks' words on the subject - and he knew that in some way or another, his uncle was going to get his comeuppance, so he had at once began glaring and stoically not saying a word.  
  
Since they had sat down at the table and begun waiting for the man to arrive, Harry hadn't spoken, but he'd been ignored in response, so it pretty much felt like his usual meals with the family.  
  
"Ah! Mister Dursley"  
  
Harry turned and looked in the direction of the voice. There was a balding man standing in the doorway, he looked maybe forty five, grey hair, clean shaven, small glasses and a well pressed suit with a loudly purple tie. He sighed, it looked like this meal was going to be about as interesting as he had thought it would be.  
  
He pointedly ignored his uncle as the man walked over to them, a faint smile on his face, and was then surprised when the empty seat next to him was taken, rather than the one next to Vernon and Petunia.  
  
"Right guys. I'm paying, so get what you like," the man said jovially.  
  
Harry defied his uncle's obvious glares and ordered a meal that sounded rather nice, the man sitting next to him, Mr Henderson, approved of his order with a large smile, telling him he'd had it before and enjoyed it immensely.  
  
While waiting for the meals to arrive, Harry found himself being shown, with a lot of enthusiasm, Mr Henderson's many cats via photos in his wallet. He seemed particularly fond of a mid sized ginger tom named Oscar, there were a great many photos of just this one alone.  
  
Harry was almost gagging to get back to his hotel room, or Draco's, by the time the meal arrived, and he didn't have much of an appetite, though, as Mr Henderson had said it would be, it was a lovely meal.  
  
During the meal, Vernon finally managed to turn the conversation in his favour, and Harry spent the next half an hour listening, rather absently, to the two men discussing drill parts, drill sales, the over sea drill markets and the day to day goings on of the drill business.  
  
While they were waiting for the puddings to arrive (Harry had selected a discreet treacle tart with custard, while Dudley selected an enormous 'Double Trouble' ice-cream and treats, which, according to Mr Henderson, was a foot tall) Harry again found himself being verbally accosted by the man.  
  
"So what's the hotel like? Where you're staying?"  
  
Uncle Vernon immediately tried to get his co-workers attention, but, much to Harry's surprise, he completely ignored him. A little confused, and rather shocked, he answered, "It's ok, sir."  
  
He noticed both Vernon and Petunia giving him withering looks out of the corner of his eye as Mr Henderson continued to talk to him, "Less of the 'sir', please! My name is Colin, and I like to be called by it. So, which room are you in? I've stayed at the hotel myself a few times, I may know which you are currently staying in."  
  
Harry gave him a wary look, but answered, "Room three, sir - Colin, I mean."  
  
"Ah, yes! That's the single bed a few doors down from the reception, is it not?"  
  
"Um, yes, um, Colin."  
  
"Yes, yes, I stayed in a room a few doors from there once, on that occasion I had Oscar with me - Have I shown you his picture? Anyway, it was a good trip that one, a business trip rather than pleasure, though."  
  
Thankfully their puddings arrived at this point and Harry quickly set about eating.  
  
Dudley's 'Double Trouble' was indeed as big as Mr Henderson had said it was and contained not just ice-cream and 'treats.' It was a large mix of three or four flavours of ice-cream with banana slices, jelly babies, marshmallows (large and small in both pink and white), chocolate flakes, sugar coated chocolate drops in many sizes and colours, sprinkles, shaped wafers and chocolate sauce smothered over all.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at it as it was placed down in front of Dudley who blanched slightly. Harry was sure he hadn't realised quite what an undertaking the pudding would be. It appeared the thing was meant for couples to eat, not for one boy, who admittedly may just well finish it anyway.  
  
Harry hid a grin as Dudley made an attempt at starting, obviously not really knowing where too.  
  
He finished his own pudding, it had been delicious, as he knew it would be, and sat back, looking around the room. He once again stifled a grin, around the large dining room couples were beginning to order the 'Double Trouble' now that they knew how big it was.  
  
He glanced over at Dudley. Despite his normally huge appetite for such things, his cousin was having troubles. It was evident though that he would not allow anyone to 'help.'  
  
As he was looking around, Harry's eye was caught momentarily by Mr Henderson's. The man smiled and then returned to his own pudding. Harry sat still, startled into immobility.  
  
There had been something - something he couldn't quite put his finger on - that was wrong with Mr Henderson just at that moment. With a shake of his head, he put the feeling out of his mind and simply concentrated on keeping himself awake until the meal was over and he could get back to his room.  
  
* * * *  
  
I don't want to be the one,  
  
The battles always choose,  
  
Cause inside I realise,  
  
That I'm the one confused,  
  
I don't know what's worth fighting for,  
  
Or why I have to scream,  
  
I don't know why I instigate,  
  
And say what I don't mean,  
  
I don't know how I got this way,  
  
I know it's not alright,  
  
So I'm breaking the habit,  
  
I'm breaking the habit tonight.  
  
Break The Habit - Linkin Park - Meteora - track nine  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
I couldn't help adding that last excerpt from my favourite Linkin Park track - I just felt it fit Draco perfectly in this chapter oo; Do you agree?  
  
Anyway, this chapter was a little bit fluffy and a little bit boring towards the end, but it had Plot Devices! ^^ Any hardened Potter reader should HOPEFULLY notice the clue I put in there oo;  
  
Unless of course I'm the only one who noticed such a thing in the books o.o; *coff*  
  
Oh, a couple of possibly interesting facts for you:  
  
Firstly - the spell 'Abscido Pilo' is Latin, Abscido means 'to cut off' - Pilo means 'to shave'. I thought it worked well ^^  
  
Secondly - the whole 'Double Trouble' thing is something that ACTUALLY HAPPENED to me when I was twelve years old oo; I thought I'd use it here, because it seemed to fit, and we could all sit back and laugh about Dudley rather than me.  
  
Don't laugh at me nn;  
  
Next chapter - more kissing! More exciting stuff! oo;  
  
Hannah 


	11. Chapter 10

Any recognisable characters © the absolutely fabulous J.K. Rowling whom I adore to bits ^^ I aint making any money, nor do I intend any copyright infringement etc ^^;  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry curled up under his duvet running the experiences of the past day through his head, backwards, for some reason.  
  
Colin Henderson. Bloody weird man. Drill and cat obsessed.  
  
Walking back to the hotel in a daze.  
  
Draco. Kissing him.  
  
He rolled over onto his back and stretched, palms flat against the wall behind his head. That had been, well, a lot more than nice. He had often wondered what it would be like to kiss the Slytherine, but had never thought he ever would.  
  
Obviously he had kissed and been kissed before, Cho in fifth year of course, a couple of times, but by the end of the year that had ended, and was now almost forgotten. He had even shared a few moments with Hermione last year, though it ended with them realising they were better off friends. Dean later on, only a few months ago, had been a short fling, though enjoyable nonetheless.  
  
Over the past year he had had to put up with advances from girls and boys alike, all after him for a taste of his fame - something that had annoyed him greatly and he tended to send such people packing.  
  
Draco though. There was something different, he could feel it. His kisses were so tender, and there was something unspoken behind them, something deep inside, that Harry found himself longing to explore.  
  
He lay like that for a while, his eyes closed, duvet half wrapped round him, just thinking about the feel of Draco's lips, wondering if the other boy was thinking the same things. He didn't really register the noise in the hallway, it was a hotel after all, there were always people moving about in the halls for some reason or other.  
  
He found himself suddenly wondering what Ron and Hermione thought of the article in the paper this morning. He sincerely hoped they would understand when he got to The Burrow and had to face them.  
  
He rolled over onto his side, lost in thought and the remembered feel of Draco's lips on his own.  
  
He suddenly awoke a while later, startled out of sleep by something - wrong. He opened his eyes and looked around, unable to focus without his glasses.  
  
The hotel was deathly silent and there was no light showing under his door. He was sure that just a second before he'd woken there had been the sound of a quiet thump preceded by a sickly green flash.  
  
He lay still, listening intently, wishing he had his glasses on, wishing, more fervently, that he had his wand, his heart thumping in anticipation of - something.  
  
Slowly, and as quietly as possible, he inched his hand toward the bedside table's drawer. He stopped when his fingers brushed the handle, looking about the room and listening hard, once satisfied he then slowly drew the drawer open slightly.  
  
His finger tips brushed his wand, and he had it in his hand a second later and his hand back under the duvet.  
  
He heard stealthy movement outside the door and immediately closed his eyes. Panic beginning to rise in the back of his throat, Harry heard the unlocking charm muttered in a rough voice and the door swing inwards with the barest hint of a squeak.  
  
There were the sounds of swishing robes and Harry knew he was dealing with wizarding folk, probably Death Eaters.  
  
The panic disappeared completely to be replaced with outright rage. How dare these bastards invade his, admittedly rented, personnel space? Again?  
  
He heard a minute intake of breath, the breath taken before speaking, and he knew he had mere seconds to react. Tensing certain muscles, he prepared himself, waiting for what felt like an eternity for the right moment.  
  
"Sopor Impero."  
  
Harry dodged the spell with his well tuned Seeker reflexes, startling the three Death Eaters he now saw outlined in moonlight. Before any of them could react, he was pushing through them, gripping his wand tightly, and making for the door.  
  
"Lumos!" he muttered, holding his wand forth.  
  
He didn't know what that last spell had been, but he had decided the split second beforehand that he didn't want to be around to find out. He ran, hearing the Death Eaters running after him, to the reception area.  
  
He ran across the entrance room and then started, looking wide eyed at the scene before him. "Shit. Oh shit, Oh Christ." He panted for breath as the panic attempted to engulf his senses.  
  
The expensive looking man had been at the desk this evening, and an old security guard sat by the doors. They were both dead, one over the desk, staring glassy eyed at Harry, the other slumped in one of the comfy chairs, his eyes thankfully directed at the floor.  
  
His heart pounding in fear, he turned as the Death Eaters entered the reception.  
  
"Come on Potter." One of them rasped. "You're making this harder than it has to be!"  
  
The voice was unfamiliar - but then, it had been two years now, Voldemort would have recruited more to his side, people unfamiliar to him. Another quietly said, "Silentium," effectively stopping any noise from escaping the room.  
  
Harry heard another intake of breath and braced himself, mind whirring.  
  
"Morsus Expugno!" shouted at the same time by the third Death Eater as Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!" The only spell he had been able to think of in such short notice.  
  
The spells collided and did nothing more than spark, lighting the room as if it were daylight, for a moment, despite his lack of glasses, Harry saw the looks of hatred in the Death Eaters eyes behind their masks before the light vanished and, his mind finally working, he again yelled a spell, "Iacio Absenti!"  
  
The lead Death Eater was taken off guard and slammed into a wall, his head hitting the hard and ancient limestone with a resounding crack that set Harry's teeth on edge. The lifeless body crumpled to the ground as the two remaining Death Eaters rounded on The Boy Who Sorely Wished To Live.  
  
They both cried together "Ligatio!"  
  
Harry dropped to his knees, shouting "Munimentum Declino" at the same time. The Death Eaters' dual spell was deflected and Harry bounded back to his feet shouting, "Prosterno!"  
  
One of the Death Eaters went down, sliding across the floor into the wall, but the other shouted out "Crucio!" and Harry didn't have time to dodge.  
  
He doubled up, clutching his stomach, squirming in pain as the spell hit him. He remembered this pain; it was almost and old friend, he'd often had nightmares about it. He dropped his wand as the pain washed over him, then dropped to his knees as the Death Eater shouted it again and a new, even stronger wave crashed over him.  
  
The Death Eater shouted it again and his forehead hit the rug, but he didn't notice the slight tearing feeling as the skin split, he knew only the pain that was rising in waves through his entire body.  
  
He curled into a foetal position, clutching his stomach, tears and blood streaming down his face, unbidden and unnoticed, clenching his teeth to stop himself crying out and showing weakness in front of Voldemort's servants.  
  
Seconds before the pain engulfed him, making him pass out, he heard vague popping sounds as if people were apparating into the room.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry opened his eyes. He was lying in a comfortable bed, a familiar comfortable bed, but instead of moonlight, there was sunlight streaming through an opening in the curtains.  
  
He blinked, and without looking, reached over for his glasses, hoping he would be able to reach them. He found them within seconds, picked them up and slipped them on so he could see.  
  
"Do you always do that? Know exactly where they are, I mean?"  
  
Harry looked over to where the voice had come from. Draco was sitting in an armchair in the corner, looking at him, worry etched into the lines of his perfect face. Harry realised where he was, it was Draco's hotel room.  
  
"You learn to always put things in the same place when you live in the dark for eleven years straight."  
  
He saw comprehension dawn in those beautiful pale eyes and slowly sat up, "What did I miss?"  
  
Draco stood and moved over to him, sitting on the bed near his knees, "Just as you passed out Dumbledore's Auror's arrived. The two Death Eaters still conscious disapparated before they could do anything. The other one's dead."  
  
Harry nodded and closed his eyes, then, before Draco could react, leant his forehead against the blondes shoulder. Quietly he asked, "What else?"  
  
"Moody brought you back here while the others cleaned up the mess. He woke me up, rather rudely if you don't mind my saying so. He told me what had happened, and by the time we'd got back to yours, everything had been sorted out. I don't know what they did with the Receptionist or the security guard though."  
  
Harry felt Draco's arm move and then a slender fingered hand rest gently on his back, "They asked me to stay with you until you woke up. They even packed all your stuff for me to carry. Apparently you're staying at mine from now on because the Death Eaters don't know where I am."  
  
Harry nodded into Draco's shoulder. * * * *  
  
Draco gently lay Harry back down again as the boy closed his eyes, falling into much needed sleep. He pulled the duvet up and over the boys shoulder and then sat, silently watching him.  
  
Over the past week or so he had nearly forgotten Harry was wanted by Voldemort and his followers, last night had served to be a particularly frightening reminder. Last night Harry had had to defend himself against three Death Eaters, and had killed one while doing so.  
  
Draco had seen the dead mans face when they pulled off the mask. He had been relieved, as he didn't recognise the man. The Death Eater was obviously a new recruit as he hadn't been much older than Tonks, but despite this, and even in the stiff, frozen, dead face, the hate had been evident.  
  
Draco had found himself remembering such looks on his father's features, often in conjunction with rants about the boy currently lying asleep in his bed.  
  
For a long time afterward he had been sickly, even when carrying Harry's meagre belongings, he had been in a slight daze. Moody had carried Harry the short distance, muttering all the while in his harsh gravely voice.  
  
Once they were back at his hotel Moody had taken Harry over to the bed and tucked his unconscious form in as he put Harry's things in the wardrobe. When he had turned, it was to find Dumbledore standing in the middle of the room, hands tucked into the voluminous sleeves of his light summer robes.  
  
He had been quite shocked to find his headmaster standing there, but Dumbledore had only moved away, towards Harry, looking at him closely, one hand held out over his prone form before turning round and giving him a warm smile.  
  
"He will not wake till late morning. Thank you Mister Malfoy for allowing this imposition upon your rooms."  
  
Draco had nodded, unable to think of anything better to do or say to the man standing only feet away from him, smiling one more, slightly gravely, before continuing, "Harry may be upset once he awakens, can I trust you to explain things to him?"  
  
Again, he had nodded.  
  
"I would ask one more thing of you. Keep an eye on him for me. We have given the hotel some protection, so you will be free of any danger within its walls, but I know Harry well enough to know that he will want to be up and out of here after he is recovered. It is at this time that I ask you to keep an eye on him for me, to attempt to keep him out of too much danger."  
  
Draco had stammered that he would, all questions on why the hell they were letting Harry stay in Bath after such an attack in the first place leaving his mind. He had watched Moody and Dumbledore for a second, preparing to leave, and as Dumbledore stopped, a strange smile on his face.  
  
"If you can, please try and make him stay in bed for the rest of the day."  
  
Then they had both disapparated and he had slumped into the armchair in the corner.  
  
And there he had stayed, watching Harry as he slept.  
  
He looked down at Harry now, sleeping peacefully, and realised for the first time that there was blood on the taller boys face. How had he missed that? How the hell, after hours of simply looking at him, had he missed the trails of blood down his cheeks?  
  
He stood, shaking his head at himself, and went into the bathroom. He dampened a flannel, grabbed his new pot of Healing Salve and moved to kneel beside the bed, near Harry's head.  
  
He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently turned him onto his back so he could reach the wound on his forehead with greater ease. He began to clean the blood from the sleeping boys face, slowly and gently, until the wound itself was revealed. The gash turned out to be quite small, and he marvelled at the amount of blood, the flannel was covered in it.  
  
When done he opened the healing salve and dipped one finger into it, it made his finger tingle, he closed the pot, placing it on the bedside table and then applied a thin layer of the salve to the wound.  
  
Harry frowned slightly in his sleep as Draco gently smoothed the salve into his torn skin, but he didn't wake, and the frown soon vanished. Draco sat back on his heals; satisfied that Harry's flawless skin was now back to normal.  
  
After a moment he cleared everything away and sat back down in the armchair in the corner with a book. His long legs folded and tucked into the comfortable cushions as he settled himself. He glanced once more at the sleeping boy in his bed before opening the book.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry woke a long while later; feeling slightly refreshed, and looked blearily around. He wasn't wearing his glasses, but recognised where he was nonetheless. He reached out and automatically and instinctively found his glasses then slipped them on as he sat up, running a hand through his tangled hair.  
  
He looked over and saw Draco was sitting in the armchair, asleep. His head was nestled on his shoulder, an open book on his knees.  
  
Harry smiled to himself, this was the first time he'd seen Draco asleep and he liked it, the other boy looked somewhat younger, gentler, his oftentimes cruel mouth was parted slightly to ease breathing, long eyelashes resting on his pale skin, his fine hair falling over his face as it would never have done while the boy was awake.  
  
He rubbed his eyes behind the glasses, remembering the events of the previous night, remembering that he had killed a man and injured another. The hairs rose on the backs of his arms as he remembered the familiar pain that final Death Eater had inflicted upon him.  
  
For a moment he buried his face in his palm, his glasses digging into the bridge of his nose, his eyes watering with unshed tears. He fought back the emotions that were stirring within him and gasped a breath, his shoulders shaking slightly with the tension of keeping it all in.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut with the effort of making it go away and then let his hand flop into his lap. He looked up and realised Draco had woken and was watching him, his head slightly tipped, as if he was trying to figure something out.  
  
Harry watched as Draco stood up, crossed the space between them and sat on the edge of the bed. Harry sighed as Draco gathered him into his arms and he rested his head in the crook of the blonde's neck. Like this, with Draco's arms tight around him, Harry could almost forget everything that had happened the night before.  
  
Almost.  
  
He took a breath and spoke, "How long was I sleeping?"  
  
He felt Draco's arms loosen slightly, but they didn't move. "About three, four hours. You were knackered."  
  
Harry nodded and felt Draco move, "Dumbledore wanted you to stay in bed for the rest of the day."  
  
Harry's eyes snapped open. "Dumbledore was here?" he pulled out of Draco's arms and sat up, staring at him. Draco nodded, frowning slightly. "Yeah, he - well, he asked me a few things, made sure you were ok, and then told me to try and make you stay in bed today, before he and Moody disapparated."  
  
Harry blinked, stunned that Dumbledore had shown up. Of course, in some ways he wasn't surprised by this fact at all, Dumbledore often did turn up to make sure he was safe after such attacks as last nights one, but he was mostly surprised by the fact that at this time, Dumbledore had taken himself away from his duties.  
  
He couldn't figure it out; Dumbledore was too busy at the moment, why had he come to Bath? Harry ran a hand through his hair again, not quite ignoring the look on Draco's face, trying to figure it out.  
  
"I can't believe Dumbledore came here. What was he thinking? He's got way too much on his hands what with The Order and-" he checked himself suddenly, fearing that he had said too much already, and was acutely aware of Draco as the blonde stiffened.  
  
He looked up into the silver eyes of one of the people many members of The Order still hated. He saw Draco's eyes were a dark, shadowed colour he hadn't seen before and sagged slightly as the suddenly cold boy stood up and crossed the room, running long fingers through hair that was normally perfect, currently mussed.  
  
Harry silently watched him a moment, inwardly tormented by his sudden coldness, trying to figure it out. He stared down at his hands for a moment, looking at his open palm as they rested in his lap. He quickly realised Draco's apparent mood swing was his fault, the other boy had obviously realised that Harry had stopped himself from saying something quite important and probably now felt that, after everything, Harry still didn't trust him.  
  
He looked back up, clenching his hands into tight fists as he did so. Draco had his back to him and was standing in front of the mirror, applying a liberal amount of gel to his hair, sticking it back in place.  
  
"Draco?"  
  
He swung his legs off the bed, tangling himself up in the thin duvet and coverlet. Draco didn't respond, so he spoke while attempting to disentangle himself from the bed linen now firmly tangled round his legs and lower torso.  
  
"Please don't take it personally Draco. We've been sworn to secrecy, I shouldn't even have mentioned it. You know I'd tell you if I could."  
  
He felt the tension in the air lesson and saw Draco turn slightly, one eyebrow raised.  
  
"He said stay in bed, I suggest you do so." The words were not unkindly; Draco's pale blue-grey eyes were looking at him out of the mirror.  
  
Draco's voice was lightly amused, there was no sarcasm or old malice in his words as Harry had been half expecting. He gave up trying to remove the duvet and coverlet and just sat there, looking at the other boy as he continued with his hair. Harry had never seen anyone be so meticulous over a hair style before. He found it vaguely fascinating.  
  
"You should leave it down, your hair-" he stopped, mildly embarrassed, and looked at his feet. He pulled his legs back up onto the bed, finally managing to untangle himself, then brought his knees up and hugged them. He looked up when he heard Draco muttering a spell under his breath.  
  
The blonde had his wand pointed at his hair, and a second later the gel was gone, leaving his hair neat, but completely loose. He'd just undone all his meticulous work in a matter of seconds.  
  
"I suppose, just this once, I could leave it down," he said quietly, his eyes once again looking at Harry out of the mirror.  
  
Harry hugged his knees tighter and smiled into them, knowing that, in his own way, Draco had forgiven him.  
  
Both boys were silent as Draco turned his hand to dressing and tidying the large room, they were both perfectly comfortable with the companionable silence that had descended upon them. Draco worked almost as meticulously on tidying as he had on his hair.  
  
Harry watched for a while, the house slave in him itching to get up and help, then squashed the feeling and Accio'd his new book and settled down to read, his back against the tall headboard.  
  
The blonde was soon finished and ended by kicking Harry's small suitcase under the bed and then sitting heavily at the foot. Harry watched silently as Draco reached over and lifted the book slightly so he could read the title.  
  
'Occlumency and its Most Recent Developments'  
  
Draco's eyebrows rose slightly, "Didn't know you were into that sort of thing." He broke the long silence with his old leisurely drawl.  
  
Harry smiled, turning the page, "You didn't think I was really taking remedial potions, did you?" Over the past year Occlumency had become a large part of his life and when he had spotted this book in Arcadia, he hadn't been able to help himself and bought it on the spot. He laughed lightly at the look of astonishment on Draco's face; evidently he had thought he was actually taking remedial potions with Snape for two years straight.  
  
He closed his eyes, and the book, and leant his head back against the headboard. "I've been taking lessons in it from Snape since about halfway through fifth year."  
  
He felt Draco move further up the bed. "I didn't take it as seriously as I ought to have at first; it's what led to the attack on the Ministry. It's my fault, if I hadn't rebelled against Snape that year, the attack never would have happened and Sirius-" he paused, swallowing, and opened his eyes to glare accusingly at the ceiling, as if it had forced him to act in such a stupid way back when he was fifteen.  
  
He felt Draco move again, the bed creaking in protest as he sat down next to him, so close that Harry could feel the heat radiating from his old adversaries body. He glanced over and met the pale eyes as they looked at him questioningly.  
  
"Sirius. As in Sirius Black?"  
  
Harry nodded, "My Godfather." His eyes filled with grief, a grief he thought he had overcome long before now. He blinked and looked back at the ceiling again. He couldn't really figure out why he was telling Draco all of this, maybe it was some lingering guilt over his earlier mistake.  
  
"I watched him die during the attack. I couldn't do anything. It was over before I even knew what had happened." He felt Draco turn to look at him and answered the unspoken question, "No, it was LeStrange." As he spoke he glanced over in time to see a wave of relief pass over the normally neutral features of the blonde boy sitting so close to him.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow, "What for?"  
  
Draco looked at him and quite suddenly Harry found himself wanting to reach out and touch Draco.  
  
"For everything I and my family ever put you through."  
  
He gave in to the impulse at that moment and reached out; gently touching Draco's left cheek with his right hand, brushing his finger tips lightly over the perfect, unblemished, pale skin. Almost imperceptibly Draco leaned into the touch and Harry saw him close his eyes.  
  
He stroked his thumb over Draco's lips, then moved his hand up and touched Draco's impossibly soft hair, letting it fall through his fingers. He didn't move when Draco moved closer, catching his hand in his own long fingered one.  
  
A moment later their lips met in a slow kiss.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Okay - so this is a bit of a fluffy chapter ^^ though it started out exciting enough oo;  
  
I apologise now - I went through a loooong bout of writers block/sidetracked-ness which is why this chapter has been so long in coming ^^  
  
Anyway - thanks for all the reviews!! ^^ I LOVE reading them and I take notice of what people say - if people feel like giving a few handy hints or observances, please go ahead and do so, it's greatly appreciated.  
  
Next chapter moves away from fluff and back into excitement ^^; Just thought I'd warn you all ^^  
  
*absently munches on bacon butty* oo;  
  
Oh yeah - information people may find interesting ^^  
  
I used several Latin words to create spells of my own in this chapter, and I thought people may like to know what each of them means, so, here is a basic run through.  
  
Sopor Impero - Sopor meaning deep sleep, Impero meaning command. They were going to make him sleep, so they could deal with him more easily ^^  
  
Silentium - self explanatory, means silence.  
  
Morsus Expugno - Morsus meaning pain, Expugno meaning to capture - self explanatory oo;  
  
Iacio Absenti - Iacio meaning to throw, Absenti meaning away. Simple really ^^  
  
Ligatio - meaning imprisonment  
  
Munimentum Declino - Munimentum meaning protection, Declino meaning deflect ( I always picture this one as being some kind of near transparent shield that falls over the caster)  
  
Prosterno - meaning to knock down.  
  
Well - that's all of them I think ^^ They're all rather self explanatory and simple, but they serve the purpose oo;  
  
Hannah 


	12. Chapter 11

All recognisable characters are © the absolutely fabulous J.K. Rowling and I am making absolutely nothing from this - only getting a somewhat satisfied feeling ^^;  
  
* * * *  
  
Their lips met in a slow kiss.  
  
Draco closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation of Harry's lips gently caressing his own. Still holding Harry's wrist with his right hand, he moved the left up to run his fingers through the ruffled mop that was the other boys' hair.  
  
There was a loud explosion and they suddenly flew apart, startled, trying to figure out what was going on. Harry nearly toppled off the bed, once again entangling himself in the duvet and coverlet.  
  
"Wha..?"  
  
Draco flung himself at the window on the far side of the bed, flinging the curtains wide he looked out, gripping the sill tightly, his knuckles going white.  
  
"Harry, you're not going to believe this." He turned slightly and looked at the other boy as he clambered out of the bed almost tripping over the linen and joined him at the window, a frown creasing his forehead.  
  
There was a fading Dark Mark hanging over the city, close to the Abbey and in plain sight to anyone looking out of a window two or three floors up. Draco watched as Harry realised what he had, the Mark was hanging over the only wizarding shop in the area, Arcadia.  
  
"Oh shit..."  
  
"'Oh shit' indeed, Harry."  
  
They both jumped and turned; Moody was standing behind them, his arms folded, magical eye spinning slightly, taking in the surroundings with ease. He was wearing official Auror robes - something not lost on either boy, but still had his own belt with various pouches and that infamous flask round his waist.  
  
"Are Henry and his wife ok?! That IS were it happened isn't it?"  
  
Moody looked a little more shifty than usual for a second, "They are both perfectly fine, Tonks has been taken to St Mungo's for some minor-"  
  
"Tonks?! Is she alright? What the hell was she doing there?"  
  
Draco steadied Harry as he almost fell over in his haste to make sure his friend was ok.  
  
"She's fine Harry, nothing serious. Now, I've been told to tell you not to get your nose into this. Dumbledore knows how you like to, well, attempt to sort things out. Don't. He's expressly forbidden you to get caught up in this one."  
  
With that Moody disapparated, leaving the two boys looking on in confusion.  
  
* * * *  
  
"I cannot believe you talked me into this Harry," Draco muttered just loud enough for the raven haired boy to hear him, "You were supposed to spend the day in bed, remember? Dumbledore's bloody orders." He clearly enunciated every one of the last three words.  
  
They were making their slow way to Arcadia, on Harry's insistence, as he had wanted to investigate. It was a cold day today; the sun seemed to have decided it wasn't a good day to be out and was hiding behind a thin wash of greying clouds, and Draco found himself shivering slightly in his light weight summer shirt.  
  
The weather seemed to be reacting to his current mood, he didn't want to be here, he had been perfectly fine sitting in his hotel room with Harry. He frowned slightly at the memory of what the Death Eater's had so rudely interrupted. He had just been getting into it when they had been startled by the explosion.  
  
"And speaking of Dumbledore's orders, Moody DID say he'd told us to stay out of it."  
  
He watched as Harry shrugged, a small smile on his lips at the defiance of Dumbledore's words, from the looks of it not even taking in the 'us' he had slipped into the sentence.  
  
"Oh shush, Draco. I know what I'm doing."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes, fingering the wand currently residing in a home made clasp on his left wrist. This was beyond ludicrous, it was cold, he was more than a little pissed off, and he did NOT want to be traipsing up to that damn shop just to see if the people who owned the place were ok.  
  
Though he hadn't been able to tell Harry that when he'd begun frantically dressing and imploring him to come with him. He just couldn't tell him no, couldn't tell him to sit the bloody hell down and think it through. He'd wanted to, but the look in those emerald eyes had shut him up and he'd simply pulled on his shoes and a muggle jacket and followed Harry out.  
  
And now they were just a few moments from the side street down to where it had all started, just over a week ago. He followed Harry down the short and shallow stairway into the alley, looking down at the shops before him.  
  
The wizarding shop was only about twenty feet into the alley, maybe less, and they could already see it had been cordoned off by muggles, probably the 'Police' as Draco had heard muggle borns call them, effectively preventing anyone entering the other shops in the area.  
  
The sign that normally hung above the shop window was hanging from one hinge and looked a little singed, the gold paint blackened and peeling. The glass of the front window was shattered and spread all over the floor of the alley, a few of the artefacts from the display were scattered about, two or three items lying at the base of the stairway.  
  
There was a small crowd around the entrance way, mostly muggles, but one or two magical folk could be seen, most notably a badly disguised former Daily Prophet reporter by the name of Rita Skeeter.  
  
He recognised her instantly. The few years since he had last seen her had not been kind and she certainly didn't understand muggle clothing. She was wearing an obviously out of date dress with voluminous sleeves in bright purple with matching shoes. She looked ridiculous.  
  
Since fifth year the woman had been freelance writing for various magazines and even occasionally the Daily Prophet. She was no longer as down on her luck as she had been before writing the article for The Quibbler, but she still had not regained her former stature.  
  
Not exactly paying attention to where he was going Draco actually walked into Harry's suddenly still form. He blinked and looked over the slightly taller boys shoulder, mildly perplexed by the hesitation.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
Harry ushered him backwards and started to move back himself, "It's that bloody woman from the Prophet. Skeeter." Harry turned before Draco knew exactly what was happening and disappeared back up the stairway.  
  
He took one more look down at the crowd, looking closely at the forty-six year old blonde journalist for a moment, then hurried up after Harry before anyone thought to look up and noticed him.  
  
He found the Gryffindor just round the corner, his back to a wall, panting slightly, looking thoroughly pissed off. He leaned on the wall next to him and smirked, "What's wrong?"  
  
"That bloody woman is what's wrong."  
  
Draco was surprised at the anger clearly evident in Harry's voice, "Sticking her nose in where it isn't wanted. I can't even stand the sight of her. Every single time we meet she tries to turn me into some front page story about a 'Weepy Lost Boy' or 'Scar Headed Freak.' She picks and chooses the tone of the bloody segments depending on how I react to her god damned questions"  
  
Draco looked at the floor as Harry spoke, then glanced up again and watched him as he slowly sank down the wall until he was sitting on the roughly paved ground, knees pointed vaguely at the sky.  
  
"I thought you were back on good terms with her? I mean, after that interview you did with her in that magazine.. what was it?" he paused, unable to remember the name of a magazine he had read only that once, and then simply for the article and the insight it had given him into Harry's life, "Anyway, she wrote you pretty well in that one."  
  
"Hah, it was The Quibbler, and she only did it because Hermione threatened to tell the authorities about her being an unregistered Animagus."  
  
Draco snorted lightly, "And she's in Gryffindor? She should be in Ravenclaw at the very least."  
  
The blonde raised his eyebrows at the look Harry gave him and backed down slightly, letting him continue.  
  
"I am not in the mood to talk to her, even if I do want to know what's going on down there."  
  
Draco wrinkled his nose slightly as he thought of something, something not entirely un-repugnant to him, as he didn't actually like the woman that much these days. Sure he had spoken quite happily with her before now, but that had been years ago, when he had been nothing more than a spiteful young schoolyard bully, when he had wanted to do anything to gain some sort of attention.  
  
"I'll go down there and see what's going on; last time I spoke to her we were on relatively good terms." He didn't need to mention the fact that the last time he'd spoken to her he'd been spearheading a time of rumour mongering at Harry's expense. He knew very well it was going through both their minds as he spoke.  
  
Harry nodded and he left him sitting were he was and walked swiftly back to the small crowd gathering around the now desolate building.  
  
His boot crunched on some herbs and glass, (giving him the distinct impression that he would shortly be needing new shoes,) as he neared the actual shop entrance, slithering his way through the press of bodies until he was close enough to see inside. The place was an absolute mess, it looked like the Death Eaters had decided to do as much damage as possible, and he knew they only did that when they were frustrated.  
  
He realised they must have been incredibly pissed off over the loss of one of their own the other night, and over the fact that Harry had once again gotten away from them. He understood perfectly how they would be reacting, as he had often watched his father closely at home, taking note of his reactions when it concerned The Boy Who Lived. He shuddered slightly at the thought of the punishments Voldemort may right now have been meting out, sure that the Cruciatus curse would be featuring largely.  
  
"AH! Young Master Malfoy. May I have some of your time?"  
  
Draco turned and looked Rita Skeeter straight in the eyes. She still wore those ridiculous horn rimmed glasses with the fake jewels, glimmering in a vain attempt to look real, that were her give away when in animal form and he didn't care one bit for the way she was looking at him, there was an undisguised emotion in her eyes that he really didn't appreciate.  
  
He forced a gentile smile, thankful for his impeccable upbringing and drawled, "Of course."  
  
He followed her out of the crush of the slowly growing crowd and they stood in a doorway a few feet down the alleyway. She had that annoying bloody Quick-Quotes Quill in her hand and a large parchment notepad. She looked up at him, for he was now taller than she, and grinned her three gold teeth sparkling alarmingly.  
  
"May I ask you a few questions?" She tapped the quill on the pad, in a small tuneless rhythm, making him want to grab it and shred it into a thousand pieces right before her ridiculously horn rim framed eyes.  
  
He gave a quick curt nod and she grinned again, intoning something under her breath at the quill that was now balanced on its nib, awaiting her commands. She tapped her heavily varnished and extremely long nails together, setting his teeth on edge.  
  
"Now then, could you give me any thoughts on this most heinous of incidents?"  
  
Draco blinked at her choice of wording before replying. "Heinous incident? I don't even know what happened; I just came down to replenish some supplies." The necessary lie just slipped from his tongue.  
  
Rita looked a little put out, her heavily pencilled eyebrows rising for a second. Draco realised that she obviously believed a Malfoy ought to know such things. He watched her over make-upped face as she rallied herself.  
  
"The muggle authorities are calling it a simple gas explosion, but I have several reliable witnesses to a Dark Mark hanging over this very building for some minutes after the initial explosion. What are your thoughts on that?"  
  
Draco raised an eyebrow, "I certainly wouldn't put it past the Death Eaters to do such things."  
  
They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound that of the acid green Quick-Quotes Quill as it scribbled over the parchment with a much larger statement than he had just given. He resisted the urge to glance over and see what was being written.  
  
Rita moved into knew territory with an unsettling grin, perhaps despairing of his lack of co-operation over the hit on the Shire's establishment.  
  
"May I ask about your apparent friendship with Harry Potter?"  
  
"You may," he replied reluctantly and quietly, one eyebrow again raised.  
  
"Could you tell my readers why the sudden change of heart?"  
  
Draco sighed inwardly, he had forgotten quite how annoying and persistent the woman could be, Harry had every right to feel the way he did about her, even after she had helped him regain peoples trust in fifth year.  
  
"We got to talking and have put our pasts behind us." A suitably non- informative statement, hopefully she'd leave it at that. He looked over her shoulder at the ruined shop entrance, muggle authorities were attempting to disperse the gathering crowd.  
  
"How long, would you say, have you been friends?"  
  
"Just over a week now," Draco was no longer paying her his full attention as he watched the 'Police' remove all but the few non-muggle members of the crowd.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry watched Draco walk away and disappear back round the corner and rested his head on his knees. He stayed as he was for a while, not exactly paying attention to anything going on around him, listening to the many muggles walking past.  
  
When a coin fell on the ground between his feet he looked up.  
  
'I don't look that bad, do I?' he wondered as he picked up the twenty pence piece, a frown marring his forehead. He clambered to his feet and crossed to an empty bench in the middle of the street and sat down there instead, stashing the coin in his pocket.  
  
It took him a moment, but he slowly registered a voice behind him. Someone he knew was sitting on the bench behind the one he was now sat on, talking quietly, as if not wishing to be overheard. He turned slightly to hear the conversation better.  
  
"I can't believe those idiots did that." The first voice was one he didn't recognise, but it sounded young, around about his own age.  
  
"Yes. They did act rather rashly. The Shire's place is, after all, a well protected building. Did they honestly think they would be able to break the wards?" This statement was followed by a snort. He knew this voice all too well. For he had been forced to listen to it for nigh on three hours only a day before.  
  
His eyebrows disappeared into his fringe but he didn't move. Mr Henderson. Colin Henderson. The cat obsessed drill worker who worked with his uncle. What the fuck were they doing having this conversation in the middle of Bath?  
  
He stared forward for several seconds, eliciting a few bemused looks from passers by. The conversation continued behind him.  
  
"They are new; they have not yet learned the discipline required by our Lord. Though he did not punish them as harshly as he could. It was lucky for them that the Shire's woman is a Mudblood."  
  
There was some rustling, as of a newspaper being flicked open and the pages turned before Mr Henderson replied. "I'm just surprised he didn't kill anyone after that fiasco at the hotel. Those idiots underestimated the Potter boy, even after countless warnings, and now Bonaparte's dead."  
  
The first man snorted rather loudly, making Harry jump slightly, a little guilty. Before anything else was said he jumped up and walked quickly to the wall he had been previously sitting against.  
  
'Oh shit, oh bloody shit' his brain was in overdrive, taking in everything that had been said and the meaning of it all.  
  
He yelped and struck out with a clenched fist when a hand dropped onto his shoulder without warning.  
  
"Whoa!" Draco ducked the fist, one arm held up protectively and Harry calmed the instant he saw his blonde head now almost a foot and a half below his own. "What was that for?"  
  
Harry grabbed the other boy's shoulder and propelled him back round the corner a little, then peeked round again, checking the two Death Eater's were still where he had left them. He let out a breath of relief when he saw they were.  
  
He closed his eyes a moment then turned to the shocked Slytherine. "I just found out how they knew where I was, and who attacked Arcadia."  
  
Draco's eyebrows rose, a questioning look on his face, he obviously didn't need to ask what Harry was on about. "And I thought I had news."  
  
Harry gave him a questioning look before continuing, "It's that man that works with my uncle. Colin Henderson, he's a Death Eater. I was just sat on the bench and over heard them talking about the other night. Apparently Voldemort didn't kill anyone over it."  
  
"Pity," he muttered as an afterthought.  
  
"Are you sure?" He turned back to look at Draco, a look of defiance on his face that made the other boy clamp his mouth shut and nod. He looked round the corner again and saw the two men getting up.  
  
"Come on, they're leaving. We've got to follow them, see where they're keeping themselves."  
  
He felt a long fingered hand on his shoulder and turned back again, "What?"  
  
Draco shook his head, "We can't just go careening after them like this, Harry. We should simply tell Dumbledore and the Auror's what you know."  
  
"And let them get away? If we don't find out where they're staying the Auror's will never find them. We need more proof than the snippet of bloody conversation I overheard." Before Draco could disagree he grabbed the boys hand and dragged him after him, following the two Death Eaters down the street.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Sorry it's a bit of a short chapter ^^; But this was pretty much all I wanted to give you at the moment! ^^  
  
Hoo Ha! Plot Devices! ^^ And poor old Draco and Harry - every bloody time they start kissing something interrupts them oo; *huggles them*  
  
Thank-you for all your reviews! ^^ Find out in future chapters what's happening with the interview with Rita Skeeter and for those who asked - you won't find out Ron and Hermione's reactions to the article in the Daily Prophet until the sequel ^^; ooooooh - I'm a nasty git aren't I? ^^  
  
Hannah 


	13. Authors Note

Short Authors Note ^^  
  
I just thought I'd better let you all know that my next update may not be for at least a week. Mostly this is because I will have no access to the internet - the reason for this being that I am moving back up into Wolverhampton, into an internet less university room ^^  
  
I WILL have my computer, so I shall be continuing the Fic, maybe even finishing it (!) and surprising the lot of you as I do so ^^  
  
Thank you all who have submitted reviews and passed comments or judgments, and thank you also to those nameless few who have inspired me during my frequent spurts of writers block. Cookies and hugs to you all! ^^  
  
I would like to state right now that I AM currently working out the plot details of a sequel to this very fanfiction, a much longer one that will follow the Hogwarts students in their final year, a short introductory wassname to this will be the Epilogue of this current fic ^^  
  
So, sorry to leave you on such short notice, but I promise I will be back with the next five or so chapters in about a week ^^ I hope you enjoy what I've already written until then ^^  
  
Hannah 


	14. Chapter 12

Any and all recognisable characters are © J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a while ^^;  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
One year previously.  
  
It was the second to last week of the summer holidays before sixth year and Draco found he wasn't missing his father as much as he had first thought he would.  
  
The past four weeks had passed relatively quickly, his time being taken up with Quidditch, preparing for and celebrating his sixteenth birthday, a short holiday in Bath and extra curricular research of which he was sure his Hogwarts Professors wouldn't approve. Homework had been completed within the first week, leaving the rest of the summer free for him to do as he wished, a habit taught him by his father in the early years of his life and occasionally reinforced after starting at Hogwarts.  
  
His mother had refused to allow him to visit his father since his long trial and eventual imprisonment. As far as Draco could figure it, she hadn't wanted him to see Luscious in such a dilapidated state, stripped of his previous titles and reputation.  
  
If anything, Draco had actually been grateful for her decision. It had meant he didn't have to see the man that had been an overbearing influence on his life for so many years, meant he was completely out of his fathers watchful gaze for the first time in his life.  
  
He found this new freedom liberating, but at the same time it made him feel a little guilty. He knew he aught to be regretting the loss of his beloved parent, but the newfound freedom was just too intoxicating. He didn't want to see his father, was relieved by the fact that the man was no longer there to enforce the strict rules his life had always been run by and relieved also that he no longer had his fathers urgency enforcing his learning the Dark arts to please the Dark Lord.  
  
He had not yet met Voldemort, but he dreaded the day it was to happen, despite both his parents' constant affirmations of his greatness. He had heard the stories circulated around the rest of the Wizarding world, heard of the atrocities, of the terror and violence that he had wreaked upon the land.  
  
Draco shuddered slightly at the thought, breaking away from his musings. He was sitting comfortably on his bedroom window seat watching as the house elves packed his mothers belongings into the chauffeur driven muggle limousine. Today his mother was leaving, going on a month long trip round France to 'get away from it all.'  
  
Just exactly what 'it all' she had to 'get away' from was beyond him, but he knew that he wouldn't miss her, less in fact than he currently missed his father, and that was indeed a moot point.  
  
Over the weeks since his father's imprisonment, she had become rather a bore, weeping and whining and generally making a nuisance of herself. He suspected it was just an act, as there was absolutely no way she could have believed his father innocent of being a Death Eater, but if that was the case, he found himself wanting to shake her by the shoulders and scream, "What did you expect?"  
  
He had contented himself instead with rolling his eyes and ignoring her to the best of his considerable abilities.  
  
Now though, she was leaving, and he was looking forward to the last two weeks of complete freedom, but he knew he was likely to get bored and some point, as he had done everything he wanted to do. He sat contemplating inviting his fellow Slytherines over.  
  
He had no real friends in his own house, nor in fact any other at Hogwarts, but this didn't bother him, he had comrades, allies, people he knew were going through the same things as he, as most of his housemates had Death Eaters for either one or both of their parents.  
  
Perhaps he would simply invite Blaise? Or even Pansy?  
  
He dismissed the idea. Inviting one of the girls was likely to make his parents happy, as they had both mentioned, on separate occasions, his need to find a nice Slytherine girl to settle down with and continue the Malfoy name. But he knew he knew by now that he didn't want to, they really weren't his type. Besides being slovenly and sluttish respectively, traits that didn't appeal to him in the slightest, they were female.  
  
He had known since he was quite young that he was gay, although back then he hadn't had a name for it, or even realised it was considered 'out of the norm', he had believed everyone was like him. Right up until his father had noticed that his attentions had fallen on one of the local boys rather than any of the girls.  
  
He hadn't been able to comprehend the way his father had reacted at the time, but had managed to belay the mans' sudden outbursts by pretending nothing was happening. By the time he had reached eleven his father had forgotten and he had learned to hide his true feelings and sexuality behind a mask of indifference.  
  
He sighed and watched silently as the house elves finished up and locked up the boot before running back into the house. His thoughts turned to the one moment he had almost let his façade slip.  
  
It had been almost six years ago now and he had been standing on a stool in Madam Malkins being fitted for his new Hogwarts robes as well as many others, when Harry Potter had walked in and taken the stool beside him. Of course, he hadn't known at the time that it was he, so he had simply said 'hallo.'  
  
He had looked at the skinny boy standing awkwardly in his oversized clothes and been instantly entranced by those piercing green eyes. They had called out to him, for friendship, for love, for acceptance and he had been unable to say anything for a moment.  
  
As a result his mind had filled with the words of his father, the teachings that had been lavished on him since the day he could comprehend anything. Before he had known what was going on he had begun spouting off his fathers words like a well-groomed puppet and he had been forced to endure the sight of those emerald eyes dim at his words and fill with something akin to mistrust, even abhorrence.  
  
He had fallen in love for the first time, and lost that love, all within the space of a few minutes.  
  
He didn't recognise it for what it was until much later, at the time he had simply felt a great sense of loss, felt the loss of something important, and he hadn't understood any of it.  
  
When Potter had left and his father returned with his books he had almost blurted out the whole experience, forgetting for a moment that his father knew nothing of his inner self, forgetting his fathers reaction the last time he had glimpsed it. He had simply wanted someone to explain this new sensation to him, to make it all better, and if not his father, then who else?  
  
But at the last moment, he had recalled himself, remembering that his father would never understand, let alone be willing to listen, so he had said nothing and the feelings had simply festered within him until he had come to understand them himself as he grew up.  
  
Later, on the Hogwarts express when Potter had turned him down, refused his hand, he had felt a pit of ice coalesce inside him. He had taken refuge behind his father and his families animosity toward The Boy Who Lived. From that point onward he had kept his true feelings to himself and lived by his fathers word, letting the imposed teachings of hatred overwhelm him and bury the unrequited feelings.  
  
He had allowed himself to become bitter over the years, simply as a way to drown out the emotions that broiled within him, hiding them even from himself, until they were almost forgotten.  
  
He shook his head at the remembrance and stood, stretching tired muscles and clicking a few joints before making his way to his book shelves, looking for something to while away the time. He picked out 'The Water Born,' a favoured book of his that he had kept well hidden over the years, since his beating when his father had discovered one of his other muggle written books.  
  
He returned to the window seat, opening the book on the last page he had been reading. Sitting down, he tucked his already long legs up under him, leaning on the cool glass of the window as he read, the midmorning sunlight forming a halo of his snow pale hair. He reached up, unconsciously tucking a few loose strands behind his ear.  
  
A while later he heard the front door slam and he looked down. His mother was just climbing into the back seat of the car. She didn't look up, hadn't said goodbye, in fact, she had barely registered his presence all day. He didn't mind in the least. He looked forward to having the last two weeks free from her incessant whining and fidgeting and interruptions into his business.  
  
He waved the car off with a slight, rather solemn movement of his hand, simply acknowledging the fact that she was leaving. He probably wouldn't see her again till Christmas, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to come home for that.  
  
The car disappeared and he moved to one of the two armchairs in front of the low burning fire, making himself comfortable in his favourite chair, once again tucking his legs up beneath him before reopening the book.  
  
He read for well over an hour, loosing himself completely in the narrative, not even disturbed when a house elf came in to replenish the fire. He didn't respond at first when a knock sounded on his door, but he eventually looked up, slightly annoyed at the interruption as the house elf, Minker, poked her head round the door, a worried expression on her face.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You has a visitor Master Draco sir."  
  
He got to his feet, still holding the book and motioned for her to show whomever it was in. He nearly dropped the novel when the forbidding, tall figure of Professor Snape stalked in.  
  
"Greg Bear? Interesting choice. I trust your parents know nothing of its existence?"  
  
Draco mutely shook his head, watching as his Potions Master made himself comfortable in the other high backed armchair, fanning out his expansive black robes as he crossed one leg over the other and looked up, one eyebrow arched expectantly.  
  
Draco took the hint and sat down, no longer comfortable even in his favourite chair.  
  
"I waited until your mother had left before paying you this visit, as she is still in contact with Voldemort, despite her current charade."  
  
Draco blinked, not really understanding what his Head of House was telling him, or even why he was here. He placed the bookmark in his current page and carefully placed the book on the small table between them. Snape's eye's never left his own as he did this. He sat back, unconsciously smoothing his hair back in place before saying "Sir?"  
  
Snape steepled his fingers before his face, elbows resting on the arms of the old chair, dark eyes never leaving Draco's own pale ones.  
  
"This is not a conversation I would wish to have while under the same roof as one of Voldemort's more vehement supporter's Draco."  
  
Draco blinked then looked down at his hands, not entirely understanding. Wasn't Professor Snape one of his supporters? Maybe this was a test? He didn't know but he didn't wish to have all of Voldemort's wrath brought down upon him for failing it if it was.  
  
"Then perhaps we still shouldn't have this conversation.?"  
  
He glanced up when Snape moved slightly and caught a glimpse of something unidentifiable in the older mans eyes.  
  
"I would not call you a follower of Voldemort, boy. Simply a misguided child with overbearing parents." Had Snape just admitted to not being a true member of the Death Eater's inner circle?  
  
Snape leaned forward slightly and Draco again blinked. He was not used to having home visits from Hogwarts staff members, let alone being stared at by one of them as if his whole life could be read in his features.  
  
He leant back slightly, reasserting the distance between the two of them, not entirely comfortable with the emotionless look Professor Snape was giving him.  
  
"Voldemort plans on visiting you relatively soon, possibly tonight. I felt it my duty to warn you and to have a talk with you before he did."  
  
Snape sat back again, leaning his gaunt frame right into the back of the concave shaped chair, his perpetually greasy hair hiding his features for a moment. Draco knew very well that the shock and fear of Voldemorts' impending visit showed plainly on his features. He couldn't mask the emotions, just this once they were far too strong.  
  
"He plans to visit you alone. It is the reason your mother left today. He wishes to initiate you into the Death Eaters personally. I believe it is a way of once again having Malfoy blood within his ranks."  
  
Draco felt the dark eyes rest on him, "How will you respond?"  
  
He took a breath, wondering still if this was a test. "My-"  
  
Snape interrupted him. "Not how your mother or your father would have you respond. How will YOU respond? What do YOU want?"  
  
Draco paused, his pale eyes briefly meeting Snapes' dark.  
  
"Think about it Draco."  
  
He had never before been asked how he felt about being given the Dark Mark, never before been asked to think abut it. He had always assumed the Mark was apart of his heritage and thus has not had to think about. He fell silent and sat back, hardly noticing Snape silently inspecting his finger nails in an offhanded kind of way.  
  
What DID he want?  
  
Up until just recently, up until his fathers' removal from his life, he had been sure. He had wanted to do anything to please the imposing man; anything had included taking the Dark Mark when the time came, continuing the Malfoy family tradition and becoming a Master of the Dark Arts. All for his father, all for his fathers' approval, for him to show some emotion toward him as a father should.  
  
He glanced at Snape, realising that deep inside, though he still craved what his father had never given him, he no longer wanted to follow in his footsteps.  
  
"I don't want it," he said quietly, not looking at his Professor, at the man he had thought was a follower of Voldemort, right up until he had asked him to think about it. This wasn't a test, this was real, this man was giving him a way out from the future his family had sought for him. He suspected Professor Snape was working for Dumbledore, suspected it may have been the old man's prompting that had brought him here for this very conversation.  
  
"I had hoped you would say that. I didn't relish the idea of having to argue with you."  
  
Draco glanced over and spotted the upward tilt of Snapes lips that indicated one of his rare smiles.  
  
"When Voldemort arrives, act gracious, act the perfect host. Be careful never to look him in the eye or be too forthcoming. Let him do as he wishes and try not to let him touch you. If at all possible."  
  
Snape paused and Draco nodded, showing he was taking it all in. The older man half closed his eyes as he continued.  
  
"You will have to convince him of your allegiance, it is the only way you will survive the encounter. But, when he asks you to take the Mark, you must make him believe you shouldn't have it until you have graduated from Hogwarts, tell him the risk of having the Mark at this point would be too great, that you would not wish your position to be compromised."  
  
Snape paused again, giving Draco a quiet stare before resuming his instructions.  
  
"I may be there to offer support, assuring him that you are right. Above all Draco, be careful. He may have favoured your parents and the Malfoy line, but do not think for one moment that this fact will stay his hand if you anger him."  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco found himself standing in the centre of a large circle. The remaining Death Eaters were edgy and his eyes narrowed at the twitching robes around him, the obvious discontent of those he had just sworn unwavering allegiance to.  
  
It was dark now, and they were standing on the Malfoy grounds under the watchful gaze of the full moon. The stark light gave the scene around him an eerie feel that just served to heighten the terror he felt at being put through what he had been.  
  
He had just spent the better part of the past hour persuading Voldemort that he was a loyal follower; persuading him that he would take the Mark once he graduated. The Dark Lord had eventually decided he would present him with the Mark as a gift for his eighteenth birthday during the summer after his graduation. Draco had been forced to act as if this was a great honour.  
  
It had worked, and despite his absolute fear, fear of the inhuman creature standing before him, he felt a small bubble of pride and relief. He couldn't see Snape in circle around him due to the masks that all wore, but he felt reassured just knowing he was there somewhere, silent but ready to step forward in his defence at any moment.  
  
Voldemort moved slightly, mere seconds had passed since his declaration that he would favour Draco with the Mark on his eighteenth, and his voice now broke into the thoughts of all around him.  
  
"Leave me," his insidious voice commanded.  
  
Draco watched as the Death Eaters bowed as one and began to dissapparate. One stayed longer than the others, as long as it was possible to do so, and he recognised Snapes dark eyes littering through the eyeholes of his mask.  
  
When he was alone, Draco looked up at the monster and self appointed future ruler of the world and forced back the urge to shudder in fear and revulsion. He smiled, using all of his fathers' rigorous training in the art to mask his true feelings, to appear calm, collected, willing to follow his Lords every whim.  
  
It seemed to work, despite his vastly developing fear now that Snape was no longer present and the tall, skeletal form walked past him and into the mansion.  
  
"Come Draco."  
  
After a pause he followed, apprehension labouring his steps.  
  
Voldemorts cloak was hanging on the central peg of hangers lined along the wall behind the double doors in the hallway, he noticed now that it was midnight blue rather than black. He turned away from the pegs after hanging his own in it's customary position five pegs from the start of the line and found that the once human man was watching him, an undisguised but completely unreadable emotion plain on his face.  
  
He paused, a little more than apprehensive now that he was alone with him and the thing spoke, its high, insidious voice making him shiver slightly in pure horror.  
  
"You fear me."  
  
Voldemort took a step closer, his long, thin arms folded across his chest. "It is well that you do. Fear ultimately leads to respect. Your father was just as you are now when he was first initiated. It is a pleasant thought."  
  
Draco didn't want to think about it.  
  
"Now. Come to me boy."  
  
His eyes dropped to the floor but he moved a little closer, his legs feeling heavy, as if they were made of lead. Voldemort crossed the remaining space between them in a few strides and grabbed Draco's left forearm, pushing the sleeve of his best robe up, wrinkling it into the crook of his arm.  
  
As thin, cold fingers trailed over his pale inner forearm Draco fought a sob of fear and loathing, catching it as a lump in his throat that he swallowed when those ugly catlike eyes looked at him from barely a foot away.  
  
The grip on his arm tightened and then shifted. Voldemort was suddenly holding both his wrists in one long fingered hand and not even his years of training could now mask the fear painfully evident on his face, in his eyes.  
  
"Ah yes. Luscious taught you well my boy. Yes indeed." Again the grip shifted and one hand snaked up, the long clammy fingers pausing an inch from his left cheek.  
  
"Such a pretty child." That voice was almost a purr, and it struck such fear in him that he had never felt. "And at your age."  
  
Draco couldn't suppress the tremor as the fingers gently stroked down his cheek, and he was suddenly struggling, trying to break his wrists free from the vice like grip. He stopped only when Voldemorts fingers paused on his skin.  
  
He swallowed, remembering what Snape had said about pleasing this creature, lest it should act on its wrath. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity to the terrified blonde, though it was surely only seconds, and then he was thrown roughly to the floor.  
  
He grazed his hands and knees as he attempted to break the fall and then looked up, his breath catching at the look of fury on Voldemorts face.  
  
"Enough of this. I had thought you wouldn't defy me, on today of all days." The voice was a hiss of rage and Draco watched in bemused dread as Voldemorts wand was brought into view, his eyes widened as a single word formed on the Dark Lords lips.  
  
"Crucio."  
  
* * * *  
  
When he awoke he was alone. He was curled tightly, clutching his stomach, on the hallway floor where Voldemort had thrown him. The Dark Lords cloak was gone from the peg and there were no house elves in sight.  
  
He was still alive. He felt that he should have died somewhere around the third blast of crucio, but he had only passed out. It seemed Voldemort had decided to continue his game some other time.  
  
He climbed awkwardly to his feet and stood, leaning against the wall for support, his arms wrapped tightly about himself. He eventually made it to his bedroom and folded into his favourite chair, letting the warmth of the fire soothe his aching body.  
  
He didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time Minker came in to replenish the fire he had come to a decision. He was going to distance himself from his fellow Slytherines' in an attempt to remove himself from Voldemorts view and further attentions.  
  
As he climbed into bed, not bothering with taking off his robe, he came to the conclusion that he would also stop baiting Potter; stop acting as his fathers' puppet, try to salvage the remaining two years of his time at Hogwarts.  
  
As he was drifting off to sleep he remembered the first time he had seen Potter in Madam Malkins. Perhaps he could try to remedy the damage he had done over the years? Maybe he could clear the air between himself and the other boy, distance himself from the years of bitterness due to unrequited love.  
  
He smiled slightly, visions of curling up with a good book and Potter in the common room chasing away the feel of Voldemorts clammy fingers on his wrists and cheek.  
  
* * * *  
  
Now.  
  
They had followed Colin Henderson and the other Death Eater to a building Draco instantly recognised as one of the buildings his father had frequently used as a meeting place in the years before his capture.  
  
Being here brought back unwanted memories of the first and only time he had met the Dark Lord. When Harry wasn't looking he closed his eyes in an attempt to fight back the cruel red eyes and the feel of deathly pale fingers on his skin. He opened them again in time to see the two men glance cautiously about before heading the ancient iron stairway that led to the cellars of the old Georgian building.  
  
Harry turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. He must have seen the expression etched into his face as Draco saw a worried frown appear on his. "I'm fine," he said quietly, "This place just reminds me of a few things. My Father used to come here."  
  
Harry still looked worried, "Are you sure you're ok?"  
  
"Yeah," he nodded, settling his mask in place, "Now come one, you started this so lets see what they're up to down there."  
  
Harry paused a moment, obviously still worried, but then he turned and they both carefully made their way down the stairway, making as little noise as possible. "Wish I had my invisibility cloak," Draco distinctly heard Harry mutter. He was surprised; he hadn't known the perfect little Gryffindor had one. He absently wondered what he used it for.  
  
They reached the bottom and moved to the only window, not wanting to tempt fate by opening the door. It was small, square and covered in cobwebs and grime, but after Harry applied the cuff of his hand-me-down jumper they could see through relatively well. The shuffled together so they could both see through the smudged glass and looked in.  
  
It was dark inside, the room lit only by a flaring torch high on the opposite wall and there was an obvious haze of magic, probably silencing and muggle repelling spells. The two men were standing in the centre of the room, Colin on the left, the other man to the right. Curled into a tight ball at their feet was a third figure that looked vaguely familiar.  
  
The two men were talking quite vehemently; they looked like they were arguing over what to do with the prisoner. Draco wished he could hear what was being said.  
  
As they watched Colin gesticulated angrily and then grabbed the man on the floor, forcing him upwards onto his feet. Both boys gasped lightly. The third man now standing on weak legs, eyes unfocussed and robes hopelessly dirtied was Colin's exact double.  
  
In fact, with wide eyes, the two boys saw the muggle attired and completely healthy Colin shimmer as magic faded and his true identity was finally revealed.  
  
"That's Zabini's father!" Draco hissed in surprise. Harry glanced at him, eyebrows raised. They both turned back to see what happened. Zabini and the other Death Eater continued to argue for what seemed an age, both indicating the real Colin Henderson now on his knees between them, the glazed look still in his eyes.  
  
Suddenly Zabini had his wand in hand and was pointing it at the helpless man, still arguing with his fellow Death Eater.  
  
Draco knew what was going to happen next and realised neither he nor Harry needed to see it. He grabbed the taller boys shoulder and attempted to pull him away, "Harry, we should go. Now. Before they find us. There's nothing we can do."  
  
Reluctantly Harry nodded and followed him up the stairs.  
  
Halfway up there was a flash of brilliant green light from the small square window and both boys jumped, suddenly both wanting to be as far from there as possible. Draco heard Harry swearing behind him.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
To be continued.  
  
HOOHA! I have returned! With a new chapter no less! ^^  
  
I do hope you all enjoyed this one ^^ It took a little over two days to write properly, and getting it finalised was a bugger, especially as I have to use Becca's computer at the moment coz my keyboard is buggerd oo;  
  
I'll be returning with another chapter pretty soon ^^ so hey ho and nonny oo; ^^;  
  
Hannah 


	15. Chapter 13

All recognizable characters © the amazing J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing them ^^;  
  
* * * *  
  
They didn't speak a single word on their way back to Draco's hotel. Neither did they run. They simply walked, quickly and purposefully until the hotel came into view when they both slowed slightly; remembering the security the Auror's had placed upon the building.  
  
Harry tapped his fingers impatiently against his wand, glancing up and down the silent hallway as Draco wrestled with his hotel room door. Unshed and very bitter tears were stinging his eyes for the man he had been unable to help. The man whose body was now very probably lying slumped on the floor of the cellar in which they knew he had been murdered.  
  
From all outward signs he had been under the Imperius curse, which just served to make Harry feel worse, for somewhere in that tortured body had been the real Colin Henderson, not even knowing, perhaps not even caring about what was going on around him.  
  
He told himself he wouldn't have been able to do anything anyway, for what could two teenage boys do against two very well trained Death Eaters? The only reason he had survived the attack the other night was because he had been fighting young initiates, plus they had been interrupted before they could strike the final blow by a room full of Aurors.  
  
This didn't help much. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed fiercely at his eyes, trying to get rid of the shameful feelings as Draco grew impatient with the door and pulled out his wand. The blonde looked cautiously up and down the empty hallway and muttered, "Alohomora."  
  
The lock clicked open and Harry put his glasses back on, distractedly following the blonde into his room. Because he wasn't looking where he was going he walked straight into Draco's suddenly still and tense back. He blinked and glanced over the other boy's shoulder.  
  
Professor Severus Snape was standing in the center of the room; his eyes narrowed menacingly, arms folded over his thin chest, tall form clad in his usual pure black and elegant robes. Harry swallowed his surprise at the look on the older mans face. He hadn't seen the Potions Master since his last Occlumency lesson at the end of sixth year; they had been making progress on his newfound talent, and despite all beliefs to the contrary, were actually making headway on mutual respect.  
  
They weren't friends, and never would be, but by now they could have perfectly ordinary and amiable conversations without sniping at each other about certain subjects. He hadn't seen this expression aimed at him for quite some time and it made him uneasy.  
  
"Sit. Both of you. Now."  
  
Snape pointed at the sofa before the merrily burning fire, his eyes still narrowed. They sat and he stood, facing them, between the sofa and the warm hearth, one eyebrow now arched in that familiar expression of annoyance.  
  
"I had thought to find the two of you here when I arrived, an HOUR ago. But I now remember that it is near impossible to make Harry Potter stay still for any length of time, and find myself unsurprised."  
  
Harry made as if to defend himself but was restrained by Draco's hand on his arm. At this obviously familiar touch Snape's other eyebrow shot up to meet the previous in a rare look of astonishment. He rallied himself well and continued, despite Harry's own narrowed eyes, turning to address Draco.  
  
"Obviously you were simply doing as the Headmaster asked, Draco, thank you."  
  
Harry gave Draco a questioning look but received only a slight shake of the head so he turned back to his Potions Master who was once again looking a little surprised, a very strange emotion to find on the face of the one person who almost always had perfect control of their emotions.  
  
Before the man could continue further, Harry interrupted him, "Why are you here sir?"  
  
Snape's thin lips snapped together in annoyance before he answered. "I was simply sent to check up on the two of you and convey the message that your Aunt and Uncle are once again willing to receive you at their home, unless of course, you would prefer to live out the rest of the summer with the Weasley's who have offered. Apparently they were distressed to hear of the recent Death Eater activity in the area."  
  
If anything, Snape looked more sour than usual. But then, Harry mused, he always did when he spoke of Ron's family, so it was to be expected. Apparently Snape wasn't finished.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore also informed me that you would both have something to tell me. Am I right in assuming that he is, as ever, correct?"  
  
Harry and Draco briefly locked eyes, silently making the decision that they had to tell him what they had seen. Draco nodded ever so slightly and now broke his silence, turning to face their Professor as he did so.  
  
"We followed two Death Eaters."  
  
Snape's eyes widened slightly and his lips thinned in a fair imitation of Professor McGonagall's severest look. He motioned for Draco to continue with the merest nod of his head.  
  
"One of them was the man Harry had dinner with the other night sir. It was Blaise Zabini's father; he used a glamour to look like a man named Colin Henderson-"  
  
Both boys were shocked by the sudden look of recognition and anger on Snape's face at Colin's name.  
  
"Where are they now?" His voice was clipped, quiet and brooked no hesitations, he sounded truly enraged.  
  
"We followed them both to a house my father often used to meet with - people. They were in the cellar and had the real Colin with them."  
  
Harry nodded, taking over from the blonde sitting next to him, "He looked like he was under the Imperius curse." Snape's dark eyes moved to him and he continued quietly. "Zabini took the glamour off, he and the other one were arguing, but we couldn't hear what they were saying. They looked like they were arguing over what to do with Colin though."  
  
His gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, "We couldn't do anything sir, Zabini pulled out his wand and pointed it at Colin, and just as we were leaving there was a flash of green light." He looked back up, "We think Colin Henderson is dead."  
  
"This isn't what I was expecting to hear. When the Headmaster told me - Anyway, Thank you for the message. I - Yes. That explains things perfectly."  
  
Both boys exchanged a questioning look at the way Snape was reacting. Harry turned back to the Professor, "Sir?"  
  
Snape appeared to calm himself. He refolded his arms and looked down his nose at the two boys seated before him. "I must go back to Hogwarts and inform Professor Dumbledore of this event. He has told me to tell the both of you to actually remain in this room for the rest of the day and not go wondering off again."  
  
He nodded a curt farewell and Disapparated, leaving them both staring at the fire.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Well that was highly unexpected." Draco leaned back into the sofa, eyes half closed as he stared at the fire. He felt Harry settle next to him, but didn't look up. "Wonder why he sent Snape to check on us?"  
  
"Someone we both trust for sure." He heard Harry say quietly. He looked up, wondering how the other boy knew he trusted the older man. Harry was looking at him, obviously thinking along the same lines because he smiled slightly and tapped his head with one long finger.  
  
"Broke through his defenses just before summer, saw you in there."  
  
Draco raised one eyebrow slightly, not liking the thought of Harry possibly knowing the kinds of things he spoke to his Head of House about.  
  
"Don't look so worried. I only saw it for a moment. You looked like you were having a talk of some sort, both looked comfortable. I swear that's all I saw before Snape pushed me out."  
  
"What are you learning Occlumency for anyway?" He asked lightly, changing the subject, moving a hand to his hair, remembering for the first time that he had left it un-styled at Harry's request. He smoothed some loose strands back, absently wondering why he didn't leave his hair loose more often. "I mean, you kind of told me earlier that you've been taking it for two years, but you never actually told me why."  
  
Harry looked at him and he wondered at the emotion he could see in his suddenly dark green eyes. He looked pained, saddened. Even a little scared, not an emotion he was used to seeing on the raven haired Gryffindor.  
  
The green eyes closed and Harry turned away, back to the fire.  
  
"I have a connection with Voldemort. Whenever he feels something particularly strong, any emotion, I feel it too, through this." He pointed at his scar, and Draco saw the loathing in his normally peaceable features, "and the fact that we share blood." He felt Harry shudder slightly, as if remembering something unpleasant before he continued.  
  
"When I sleep I'm particularly vulnerable. In the summer before fifth year, Voldemort found out about it and realized it was two way. He could get what I was feeling as well. That's when he started sending me visions."  
  
Draco leaned forward slightly, opening his eyes fully, wondering how the hell Harry had kept something like this hidden. Then he remembered the events in fourth year, the fainting fits and complaints about his scar hurting him.  
  
"Have you always had this connection?"  
  
Harry appeared to understand what he was on about. "Yeah. My scar absolutely kills whenever he's near, or when he's thinking about me. Once he returned in fourth year, the pains got worse though, the connection stronger, as he actually had a real body, and some of my blood."  
  
Harry paused and Draco watched the emotions crossing his face, he diverted the other boy from his memories of Voldemort's return. "So the Occlumency lessons with Snape?"  
  
Harry nodded, apparently noticing the change in subject and looking vaguely thankful for it, "Like I said, he started sending visions, trying to make me do what he wanted. The Occlumency helps me prevent him from trying it again or letting him see what I see, know what I know."  
  
Draco nodded, understanding, and leant back into the sofa again, making himself comfortable. They would be in here for a long time after all. "Do you ever slip?"  
  
He felt Harry stir beside him, getting himself comfortable before he replied. "Yes."  
  
Draco closed his eyes. He understood now that they had just spent the past few minutes ignoring the events of the day. He didn't mind in the least, he didn't really want to think about it.  
  
"What happens?" he asked quietly.  
  
He opened his eyes briefly when Harry rested his head against his shoulder, surprising him a little, but he didn't move or tell Harry to get off, just closed his eyes again instead.  
  
"It's normally only happened when I've gone to bed too tired to remember. I spend the night seeing everything Voldemort's doing and feeling everything he feels." There was a long thoughtful pause, "I remember, this time last year, he was torturing someone, repeatedly using the Cruciatus curse because they wouldn't let him touch them."  
  
Harry's voice had gone quiet and Draco knew why. Harry was speaking of the time Voldemort had visited him. His eyes opened at the knowledge, but he said nothing. It sounded like Harry had only seen what had happened after he had gone back into the mansion, after the terrible hour of standing in that circle.  
  
Harry was settling down comfortably now, he could tell, but he didn't say a word to the raven haired boy leaning against him, for fear of what he may say, what he may already know.  
  
"It's alright. I won't tell anyone."  
  
Draco relaxed slightly. Harry really had only seen what Voldemort tried to do to him, tried to make him do. He wondered briefly why Harry had slept so late that night, then remembered that that was the summer after the attack on the Ministry, the attack he had told him about only this morning, the attack when his Godfather had died. Harry had probably spent half the holiday not sleeping, just lying in bed staring at the ceiling or something similar.  
  
Without thinking about what he was doing he moved his arm, placing it round Harry's shoulders. For a second Harry didn't move, then he leaned in closer and they sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply listening to each others quiet breathing.  
  
"Thank you," he whispered just loudly enough for Harry to hear him but pretend he hadn't.  
  
Some time later, when the fire had reduced to glowing embers in the hearth, Draco looked up at the ceiling. They hadn't spoken for a long time, simply sitting in comfortable silence, watching the flames as they burned down, lost in their own thoughts. He glanced over at the clock on the wall, slightly surprised to realise it was nearing six in the evening already.  
  
He hadn't realized either, until now, that he was hungry. After all, they hadn't had breakfast. Or lunch for that matter. He turned to Harry and realized his eyes were closed. He looked way too comfortable, but he had to move or he'd die of starvation. Or something else equally melodramatic. Possibly blood loss to the arm.  
  
He moved slightly and Harry opened his eyes, glancing up at him with a shy smile. "My arm's gone dead," Draco informed him regretfully.  
  
Harry laughed lightly and sat up, glancing at the clock. A small start of shock at the realization of what time it was. Draco rubbed the life back into his arm with determination. "Better get some food brought up I suppose. Can you do that? I never know what to do at muggle hotels, been buying all my meals in café's." He muttered on about muggles for a few minutes as Harry moved over to the phone and rang room service.  
  
"I've ordered up some sandwiches and coffee. That ok?" Harry asked sitting back down again and stretching out. Draco nodded and did the same, wondering quite how 'muggle room service' worked. In any wizarding hotel you just had a menu to read from and the food would appear on the table, rather like the feast had worked in fourth year. Obviously all the food was already prepared by house elves, so this 'room service' was a little strange.  
  
There was a knocking on the door a while later and Harry got up to answer it while Draco simply watched over the back of the sofa in mild fascination. Turned out it was just a young woman with a trolley. It was as simple as that.  
  
They ate in silence, both still refusing to mention what they had almost witnessed earlier in the day. It was still too soon after telling Snape the unfortunate news, though it was bugging Draco that a wizard had been working at the same place as Harry's uncle.  
  
"So what was that news you mentioned? Before we followed, well, you know."  
  
Draco looked up from his coffee, breathing in the heady aroma. He smiled as he remembered what Harry was on about.  
  
"Oh, I ended up talking with that Skeeter woman for a while. She told me the muggles were blaming the Shire thing on a gas explosion by the way." He watched as Harry frowned into his own mug.  
  
"Anyway, I broke her Quick-Quotes-Quill."  
  
He grinned mischievously as Harry snorted into his coffee.  
  
"You what?"  
  
He continued grinning, "I broke her Quill." He took a slow sip of the coffee before continuing, making Harry wait before he explained. He found he was enjoying this.  
  
"She pissed me off. Kept trying to wangle a confession about the two of us out of me. She went on and on about how I'd gotten on so well with her in fourth year, how I'd helped her write all those lovely articles and so on." He smirked slightly at the look on Harry's face as he admitted this for the first time.  
  
"She was blathering on about how much the two of us had fought over the years, and wouldn't accept the fact that I'd grown up. Then I looked at what that bloody Quill was writing and, well, lost my temper I suppose."  
  
He made himself comfortable on the sofa again, trying to remember what it was the Quill had actually been scribbling. "Ah yes." He managed to put on a fair imitation of Rita Skeeter's actual voice for the quote, making Harry snort slightly before the words sank in.  
  
"'Young Master Malfoy refused to comment on the nature of his relationship with The Boy Who Lived, but it is obvious from previous statements that he is simply using Potter as a tool for his own ambitions.'"  
  
Harry stared at him.  
  
"That really pissed me off, so I shouted at her for a bit and then snapped her Quill in half. The crowd round us when I did this seemed to approve, they were quite pleased when she left, with her nose in the air of course."  
  
He watched as Harry let this sink in fully, then as the mirth began to break through and shine in his eyes. Harry burst out laughing. A full, whole body laugh that nearly made him drop his mug.  
  
"Oh my god! I can't believe you did that!" Harry managed to say rather breathlessly, still laughing. "I wish I'd seen the look on her face."  
  
Draco grinned, enjoying the sound of Harry's laughter, something he hadn't heard first hand before. Of course he'd heard Harry laugh before now, but never because of something he'd said or done, always it had been as a third party as he watched from the other side of the room and Weasley had told him something. It was a strange but nice feeling to be the one who caused the reaction.  
  
He marveled at the feeling for a moment, not quite understanding it. Whenever his housemates had laughed at some joke or anecdote he'd told them, he hadn't felt this way, he hadn't even felt like this when his father or Snape had laughed at something he'd said.  
  
He forced the feeling down and just grinned happily at Harry's continued mirth, savoring it as if it may never happen again, memorizing the glint in the sparklingly green eyes.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry snuggled down into the warm blankets, making himself as comfortable as possible before he could sleep.  
  
He and Draco had made a makeshift bed on the sofa using spare blankets from the wardrobe and a couple of the pillows from Draco's own bed. Apparently he only ever used the one anyway, so Harry didn't feel too bad about depriving him of his bedding.  
  
The fire was burning low now and made the room glow with a comforting orange light, reminding him strongly of the common room back in Gryffindor tower where he had slept on a few occasions last year, normally when he had been studying late at night or had needed time to be alone with his thoughts that he simply couldn't get with Neville snoring away in the corner of the dorm room.  
  
He could hear Draco getting comfortable in the bed and smiled to himself. He had thought there would be some awkward moments when they sorted out who was going to sleep where, but there had been none. There had simply been a silent understanding between the two of them and they had set to, making the sofa into an impromptu bed.  
  
He glanced at the clock on the wall as he nested himself in the blankets. Eleven thirty? Well, it was earlier than he expected, but not so early that he'd be lying awake for hours before sleep finally overcame him. He yawned, realizing he actually was quite tired and heard a chuckle from the bed, followed by a yawn. He chuckled in turn and heard Draco roll over, muttering something about 'shutting up.'  
  
The day had apparently gotten to them both, their rude awakenings in the early hours of the morning, Draco's argument with Skeeter, and their attempts at espionage that afternoon had left them both remarkably drained, and they had only noticed when the sky began to darken.  
  
He curled tighter and realised they had avoided speaking of Colin's demise all evening. Except for his near mention when he had asked what Draco's news had been, they hadn't spoken of it once. It was obvious that neither felt ready to talk about it yet. Conversation had been a little tense because of it.  
  
He closed his eyes and saw that flash of green light again, this time coupled with high pitched laughter. Two memories were blurring together, one from his first year of life, the other from that afternoon. He wished fervently that his happier memories were the ones that flowed through his mind every night before he slept, rather than his the worst. It was a vain thought, one he had every night as he tucked himself in. He planned on asking Madame Pomfrey to make him something to help him sleep at night when he got back to Hogwarts, though he was sure he would be turned away and told to ask Snape instead.  
  
His eyes opened again when he realised he hadn't been practicing his Occlumency for the past few nights. Nothing adverse had happened, but he still worried about himself a little. Closing his eyes again he thought he could maybe give it one more night before he picked up again. He wanted to see what dreams he would have with the knowledge that he hadn't been practicing.  
  
His breathing slowed as he listened to Draco's gentle breaths across the room, his body relaxed, the tension of the day leaving him as he gently drifted into sleep.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry was standing in the center of a circle surrounded by masked and cloaked figures. He could see that the eyes glittering behind every mask were on him and he basked in the knowledge. This was how it was meant to be, this is how it WOULD be once his plans came to fruition.  
  
There was a gentle murmuring all around him and the two Death Eater's standing directly before him moved apart, allowing two figures to enter the circle. Zabini and Osborne. The two idiots knelt before him in silence, ducking their heads in subordination.  
  
He folded his arms, giving them both a look a pure rage when they finally looked up into his catlike red eyes. He let that rage seep into his voice as he whispered, "Well?"  
  
It was Zabini who answered him, who met his eyes straight on. "Henderson is dead, My Lord, I killed him myself. The body was reduced to ashes and then mixed in the hearth of his own home, as you ordered."  
  
For once someone who followed his orders to the letter. He had sorely missed this dedication since his loss of Malfoy. One day soon he would remedy the situation and get back what he had lost.  
  
"Good." The rage was thinly veiled this time and Zabini un-tensed slightly. "And Potter?"  
  
Zabini instantly re-tensed, "We are still unable to locate him."  
  
Harry hissed an oath in parseltongue, making the two Death Eaters before him flinch. He couldn't believe the inadequacies of these idiots. He had given them a simple order, retrieve the Potter boy. Everything had gone perfectly until the latest recruits bungled the job at the hotel. And now this. Dumbledore had obviously hidden the boy somewhere, and as his relative were still in the city, he hadn't many places to hide.  
  
"We think the Malfoy boy is hiding him, My Lord."  
  
He hissed again and then barked at the two men to get up. They did so and stumbled in to their accustomed places in the circle, relief evident in the eyes behind the masks. He stood for a moment, thinking over the idea of Draco Malfoy defying him, backing out and siding with Dumbledore. It was not a pleasant thought.  
  
He decided he would have to pay the insubordinate child a second visit, make him see the error of his ways. He smiled grimly at his decision, thinking of the many things he would put the child through if it did indeed turn out that he had fallen under Potter's spell.  
  
Harry took a breath and looked around at the silent Death Eaters, enjoying the fear emanating from them all. He said nothing for a moment and then in clipped tones said, "Now, bring me the latest recruits."  
  
Two of the robbed figures stepped out of the circle, side by side, and returned moments later leading two others, wrapped head to toe in large all encompassing cloaks. He smiled to himself. If these two were anything like the Malfoy's had told him, they would do well.  
  
The two new figures were pushed on to their knees before him and he lifted his wand, his eyes raking over their masked faces. He could see fear shinning in their eyes and reveled in it.  
  
"Will you join my ranks?" He almost whispered, not even glancing at the two men standing behind the kneeling figures. The two initiates shook slightly and then glanced at each other, the Death Eaters around them and appeared to come to a decision.  
  
"N-no," they stammered in unison.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Hooha? oo;  
  
Yeah - I know it was a slightly insufferable chapter with much talking, but it all needed to be said and done ^^;  
  
You like what I did to Skeeter? Heh Heh - I often felt like doing that when reading book four, she really peed me off and I often wondered why Harry didn't just go ahead and do it.  
  
Anyway, plot devices a plenty, much comfortable silences between Harry and Draco, and only three more days left in Bath to go ^^; (take a guess on how many more chapters that is why don't you?) and I've already started on the sequel ^^;  
  
*hands cookies to all and then wanders off scribbling down the next chapter as she goes*  
  
Hannah 


	16. Chapter 14

All recognisable characters © J.K. Rowling. All raise her for her wonderful characters that I am just borrowing ^^;  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco awoke with a start, hearing something unintelligible being shouted into the gloom of the room. He sat up, blearily looking around, remembered Harry was sleeping on his sofa and realised that that was where the shouting was coming from.  
  
He threw his duvet aside, vaguely noticing it was still dark outside, and made his way quickly to the sofa and Harry. He dropped down onto his knees at the still sleeping boys' side and grabbed his shoulders, trying to stop him from thrashing about. "Harry! Harry, wake up!"  
  
Slowly Harry quieted, but it took longer than Draco would have wished, the shouting stopping first and then movements slowing down. Eventually the raven haired boy was still and he removed his hands from where they were clamped tightly on surprisingly strong shoulders. He sat back on his heels, wondering just what the hell was going on and then found himself looking into suddenly open emerald eyes.  
  
He almost gasped at the fear evident in them. Harry blinked a few times, the fear slowly diminishing and then sat up rubbing them fiercely, mumbling an unnecessary apology, wiping tear tracks from his cheeks.  
  
"What was that all about?" Draco whispered hoarsely, thinking of the very real fear he had seen in the other boy's eyes for only a moment.  
  
"Forgot my Occlumency." Harry muttered, clutching the blanket tightly and moving as if to hug it to his chest. Draco understood now, he had forgotten to practice his Occlumency the night before and consequently suffered a vision. But what had he seen to make him look, well, look like this?  
  
Without thinking, Draco reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrists, carefully pulling them away from his chest and the blankets. Inch by careful inch he pulled the taller boy into an embrace, where he found himself being clutched tightly. He tucked the raven mop under his chin and discovered Harry was shaking slightly.  
  
"Is it always like this?" he asked quietly and felt a nod against his chest. He sighed lightly, finally understanding the real reason Harry paid such close attention to his Occlumency lessons. If he had suffered from visions like this, he would too.  
  
"Can you tell me?" he asked just as quietly, almost whispering. For a moment there was no response, Harry only clung to him a little tighter, the arms wrapped round his chest moving to a more comfortable position, then he whispered, "I was Voldemort again."  
  
Draco started slightly, realizing Harry hadn't simply meant he felt what Voldemort did when he had told him about the visions earlier, he meant he took Voldemort's place in those visions. No wonder he was terrified.  
  
The gentle whisper continued, "Zabini and the other guy, Voldemort knew him as Osborne, told him about Colin. They burned him and put his ashes in his own hearth. Then he asked two initiates if they would join the Death Eaters." There was a long pause as Harry apparently collected his thoughts.  
  
"They refused and he tortured them." Draco felt the arms round his ribs tighten again as Harry whispered, "God Draco, he enjoyed it, every minute of it. I can still hear their screams, and I think - I think I knew them, their voices, I recognized their voices."  
  
Harry's voice trailed off and Draco couldn't help himself, he tightened his own arms around the scared boy in his embrace, trying to reassure him, and pressed his lips into the soft hair.  
  
He felt Harry stiffen slightly in his arms, and then relax. Within a few moments the trembling had subsided and they just held each other in silence, Draco still on his knees beside the sofa where Harry sat with his head on Draco's chest, twisted at what must have been an uncomfortable angle with his legs tangled in the blankets.  
  
Draco closed his eyes and gently ran his left hand down Harry's back, smoothing out the creases of his t-shirt. It was a reassuring gesture his mother had often used on him as a child when he had nightmares and was an almost unconscious movement on his part. He felt Harry move in his arms, relaxing further at the gentle touch, so he did it again and murmured something about being safe now.  
  
The hands that had been resting lightly on his back clutched at the material of his top as he again ran his hand down the other boy's back. He slowly pressed his lips into the soft hair, silencing himself and stilled as Harry moved. A moment later he was looking into those deep green eyes only inches from his own. Harry wasn't wearing his glasses so Draco could see every sparkle, every change of colour and noticed for the first time that Harry's eyes were two shades of green, and round the edge the green faded slightly and was ringed with a colour that could only be described as silver.  
  
For a moment he just looked, entranced by this sudden revelation, staring at the beautiful folds of colour before him, brightened from the shed tears. He wondered how he had never noticed it before, but knew, instinctively, that it was the glasses, the glasses that hid so much from the world. He moved one hand from Harry's shoulders and touched the tips of his fingers to one lightly tanned and morning shadowed cheek. The eyes closed as he caressed the perfect skin and he felt a gentle pressure as Harry leaned into the touch.  
  
The hands on his back tightened again, clutching at the downy material and he closed the small distance between them. His eyes fluttered closed as he brushed his lips over Harry's, his heart nearly bursting when he felt him respond. He moved his hand up into the soft raven hair and kissed him again.  
  
Harry sighed gently and moved one hand onto the back of his neck as they kissed, making him tremble slightly. He gently coaxed the soft lips open and their tongues met in a slow exploration.  
  
Draco made a faint noise in the back of his throat as realization hit him. He had wanted this since they had first seen each other only ten days ago, it was the reason he had stopped to talk to the boy, the reason he had extended the hand of friendship that he had been longing to do from the first day they met. This time it hadn't been refused, and it had been the start of something they couldn't turn away from. Not now.  
  
He remembered, now, that very first time they had met, the feelings that had flooded him at the time but hadn't been able to understand. The feelings he had carried with him, deep inside, through all the years they had known each other.  
  
He deepened the kiss and felt Harry respond in kind, then leaned forward slightly, moving him back against the sofa until he was leaning over the supine body. He felt the hand on his back move tentatively, slowly running up and down his back and he moved his own, gently touching Harry's ribs, the side of his abdomen, his hip. Harry moaned gently into his mouth and he rested his hand there, doing nothing other than lightly stroke with his thumb.  
  
Slowly and carefully he climbed onto the sofa and they stretched out together, bodies touching from lips to chests to other areas that were beginning to make themselves known. He felt Harry's legs shift under him, the knees parting and moving further apart until he was nestled comfortably between them, the blanket now lying forgotten at the other end of the makeshift bed.  
  
Harry stopped kissing him then and pulled away with a muted moan and gently pulled his head down, kissing him lightly on the forehead before resting his own against it. For a moment they lay there, listening to each others labored breathing until Draco heard the minute intake of breath before speaking.  
  
"What are we doing?" Harry whispered so quietly he had to strain to hear him. He shook his head in response, not knowing how to answer. He opened his eyes and looked down into the other boys, seeing the hungry look he knew was in his own mirrored in them. He felt Harry move beneath him and groaned slightly at the contact. He looked down again and saw the need he had seen so long ago, calling out to him. So he leaned in and, without closing his eyes this time, kissed him again, slowly and reassuringly.  
  
The Gryffindors hips bucked slightly under him as they kissed and they both moaned round each others tongues as the contact sent shivers up his spine. He again trailed one had down the body beneath him, reveling in the simple touch, feeling his breath hitch as a hand moved to grasp the cloth at his collar, the other slipping under it on his back and moving against bare skin, the movements no longer tentative but purposeful. Gentle fingers traced slowly up his spine, as if memorizing every protuberance, every slide of muscle under skin.  
  
He gasped slightly as Harry's nails ran a trail down his back, just hard enough to leave marks, but not so hard as to hurt. Where the hell had Harry learned just the right pressure? He paused mid kiss to regain his breath and felt his bottom lip nibbled in much the same way as his back had been treated. He was steadily beginning to wonder how much Harry actually knew about this, as shivering tendrils of heat ran through his body in response to the light nibbling.  
  
Before he could move back in for the kiss he felt soft lips against the skin of his throat. His breath caught again at the gentle touch and then released all at once when he felt them move, trailing slowly up his jugular, nipping and licking as they went until his ear was taken in the warm mouth and sucked slightly then nipped.  
  
"Harry-" he whispered, unable to stop himself. He felt Harry smile against the skin of his neck and the hand clutching the cloth at his collar tightened slightly. He moved his free hand down then up and under the t- shirt, caressing the lightly muscled stomach before moving round and up the back, feeling toned muscles moving beneath smooth skin.  
  
His hips twitched against Harry's as the other boy gently nipped the dip at the base of his throat and they both caught their breath. They kissed again, hungrily, not even pausing for breath before Draco pulled away and took one of Harry's ears between his teeth. Nails trailed down his back again as he kissed his way down the throat, pausing to nuzzle the light smattering of stubble already on his cheek.  
  
He slipped his other hand from Harry's hip and up under the t-shirt, gently tugging at the material, making his wishes known. He marveled at the feel of muscle on Harry's stomach and almost desperately wanted to see him. The raven haired boy complied, allowing him to pull the material up and away. Briefly, he pinned Harry's arms in the cloth and kissed him mercilessly, smiling at the playful struggles. His own top soon followed, dropped carelessly on top of the t-shirt.  
  
They lay for a short while, looking at each others bare chests, lightly tracing finger tips over skin neither had seen before, reveling in the newness. Draco moved a hand and placed it palm down, flat against the skin a few shades darker than his own, over the breast bone, feeling Harry's heart beating in tandem to his own. He stayed as he was for a moment, eyes closed, before leaning down and gently brushing his lips over the area, the small amount of soft dark hair tickling his lips pleasantly.  
  
He kissed his way back up to Harry's mouth and they kissed again, almost tenderly, their bare chests touching, the new sensations to his brain in sharp contrast to the feeling when there were two layers of cloth between them, hips moving almost independently of thought, rubbing together in slow movements that had them both moaning within moments.  
  
He felt Harry move one of his hands down and it grabbed his hip, stilling them both. Their lips parted, but neither moved away, and they gasped for breath. He could feel the familiar tug in his stomach already and was grateful for that staying hand. They shouldn't be doing this, not here, not now, even if they both really wanted to. He took a deep shuddering breath, about to tell Harry this when he was interrupted.  
  
"I know," the whispered agreement was tinged with regret and heady with a heat that made Draco wish they could go on, despite his determination to stop and wait. He nodded slightly but didn't move, relishing the feel of skin on skin, as well as other things, while it lasted.  
  
"Merlin-" he mumbled, resting his forehead against the top of Harry's head, breathing deeply. Harry shifted slightly, making them both shudder, hips moving together again, and then Draco moved. With heartfelt regret he moved out of Harry's legs and sat up. After a moment the other boy joined him, slipping his surprisingly strong arms round his shoulders. They sat together in silence, slowly regaining the breath they had lost and calming down.  
  
"Where did you learn that?" he eventually whispered, leaning into the embrace, not embarrassed by the slight crack in his voice. He felt silent laughter but didn't move. "Was there some girl I failed to notice?" He was unable to keep the mirth out of his voice.  
  
"Girl?" Harry repeated quietly, "The thing with Cho was over before it began and Hermione was a big mistake. So no, no girls." Draco stayed quiet, waiting patiently for Harry to tell him in his own time.  
  
Eventually Harry whispered, "It was Dean Thomas if you must know."  
  
At this Draco did stir, he sat up slightly to better see Harry's face. He looked at the green eyes and the shy smile and blinked. "Dean Thomas?" Harry nodded, and he felt fingers brush his lips. He settled back into the embrace. How the hell had he missed that? He didn't really understand why, but he felt a little jealous. "Why? When?" he asked quietly.  
  
He could feel that Harry was still trying not to laugh aloud, "Who could resist all that dark skin?" A pause, "A couple of months before summer." He sounded a little more serious now, and the silent laughter had subsided. "It was a short fling, but quite passionate. We learned a lot together."  
  
As if answering Draco's unspoken question Harry quietly said, "It never went further than the two of us either. We both come from families that don't exactly harbor nice feelings towards, well, homosexuals and felt it prudent not to come out yet."  
  
So that was it. Draco understood far too well and said so. Harry nodded into his hair in response and they fell silent again, just sitting together, enjoying each other's presence. After a while they began to notice the cold and the light slowly appearing underneath the curtains.  
  
Draco led Harry to the bed, forsaking the sofa entirely and they climbed into the comfortable warmth. They curled together on their right sides; his chest pressed contentedly against Harry's back, arms wrapped around him with the duvet pulled almost to their chins. It was warm and infinitely comfortable and within minutes they were fast asleep.  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry drifted into consciousness more warm and comfortable than he had ever been in his life. For a few sleepy moments he couldn't quite figure out why that was. There was a warm pressure against his back and something equally warm wrapped round his chest.  
  
He opened his eyes and remembered.  
  
Smiling to himself, he snuggled closer to the warm body pressed against his and looked out at the room. There was a streak of light on the wall opposite him from a crack in the curtains. It must have been late morning by now. He really didn't want to get up, but he knew he had to send an owl to Ron and Hermione telling them he was ok and accepting the Weasley's offer to stay at The Burrow for the rest of the summer.  
  
Resigning himself he gently removed Draco's arm from where it was slung over him and round his chest and slowly extricated himself from the tangle of limbs, careful not to wake the other boy. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and stretched, yawning slightly. He wrinkled his nose when he remembered his glasses were on the other side of the room.  
  
Harry slowly made his way across the room, silently cursing his shortsightedness, until he reached the sofa and found his glasses lying under the two discarded tops. Without thinking about it, he slipped his glasses on and folded the tops, placing them on the back of the sofa, then, smiling, he made his way to the bathroom.  
  
When he came back into the main room, Draco was just waking up. Harry smiled at the blonde who looked as tired as he felt, and pulled out one of his new shirts, slipping the light material over his head, pulling it down over his bare chest. That brought back the sensation of pulling Draco's expensive top off last night, he remembered the feel of the other boys pale smooth skin and lightly muscled torso.  
  
He shook himself as he pulled on a new pair of jeans. "You know anywhere I can send an owl from?" Draco managed to sit up and look at him blearily, before rubbing at his eyes and mumbling, "Yeah, s'down the road."  
  
Speaking of owls, there was a loud tapping on the window. Draco swore openly and let the bird in, quickly paying it before flicking the paper open.  
  
"Rita didn't write anything, thank god, and there's nothing else interesting. They've completely glossed over the Shire attack."  
  
Harry nodded, he had known they would. Even now, when people finally believed Voldemort was out there, his Death Eaters attacks were played down or just not mentioned at all. He heard Draco throw the paper on the bed and smiled to himself.  
  
Before long Draco was ready and they were both pulling on light summer jackets. Harry grinned despite himself when the blonde mumbled about getting up so bloody early and halfheartedly threatened to tie him down next time so he could get a decent lie in.  
  
The local Owlery turned out to be, well, not what Harry expected for one. It was in the middle of a muggle housing district, halfway up one of the hills Bath was situated on and was actually a rather old looking mini mansion. From the outside it looked like an old boarding school from the twenties or something. The architecture was quite awe inspiring. Inside it had been turned into what could loosely be turned a 'post office.'  
  
Harry strongly suspected that any muggle looking at the building was left with the distinct impression of a private home. He quickly bought parchment and quill and sat in the corner penning a quick note. He let the Weasley's know he was perfectly fine, that nothing untoward had actually happened to him and accepted their offer of having him over for the last three weeks of summer.  
  
Draco leaned against the wall looking over his shoulder the whole time, making the occasional snippy comment about his handwriting. He simply brushed the comments off with a smile and handed the rolled parchment to the woman standing at the desk. She smiled at him, eyes darting to his forehead and he turned to leave before she could say anything.  
  
To his surprise, Draco was smirking at him, "What?"  
  
The blonde simply shook his head, his pale eyes closing for a moment, so he fell in beside him as they made their slow way back into the center of town. They silently agreed that going back to the hotel would be a bad idea, so they walked aimlessly about the streets for a while, talking about nothing and everything, avoiding the one subject still in both their minds. The death of Colin Henderson.  
  
They spent a couple of hours window shopping, though Draco insisted on actually buying a few things here and there, browsing through the many varied shops in the area, stopping for something to eat at one of the smaller, out of the way café's.  
  
Eventually, when it was nearing six, they decided to head back. Lost in conversation with one another they didn't notice things around them, especially as the streets were fairly empty. Without knowing how it happened, Harry walked into a large body, bounced backwards slightly and landed in Draco's surprised grasp.  
  
"What the-?"  
  
Both boys looked up and found themselves staring into the rather red face of Uncle Vernon. Quite hastily Harry straightened himself, an almost instinctive reaction whenever he saw that look on his Uncle's face.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco noticed Harry's reaction and frowned. Not only was this man the lowest form of humanity on the planet, and that was saying something when people like Peter Pettigrew were still alive, he seemed to have a hold over the Gryffindor that he'd never have believed possible if he hadn't just seen it with his own eyes.  
  
Harry acted like a damn servant around this man! He was making himself, however unconsciously, tidy and doing everything but bow before him!  
  
His temper began to rise and he took hold of Harry's shoulder, staring down the stick insect of a woman behind Vernon that must be Aunt Petunia and glaring at the whale of a boy that was obviously Dudley. The nicotine- blonde woman looked down her nose at him and moved behind Vernon slightly, but Dudley stood his ground, though he paled a little under Draco's baleful gaze.  
  
"Well, Harry. We wondered if you were still around. Not been taken to that nest of twisted miscreants you call friends yet?" Vernon sniffed arrogantly, "Too much to hope for really."  
  
Draco felt Harry's shoulder tense under his hand as he shot back, "The Weasley's are not 'miscreant's'! Don't you dare call them that!"  
  
Vernon bristled; fluffing his mustache in what would have been a hilarious fashion had both boys' not been rather incensed.  
  
"I'll call them what I bloody well like, boy." He turned his eyes on Draco and sniffed again, "And I suppose you're the same as him? Another Freak? You must be down on your luck to be hanging around with this-"  
  
Draco snarled. He even surprised himself with the response. But it shut Vernon up and made the other two muggles look at him. He sneered, not looking at Harry as he did so, giving his full attention to the huge man standing before him. He kept his voice low, so they had to strain to hear him, but his every word dripped with venom.  
  
"I'll have you know, Muggle, that I could buy your entire worthless house with my allowance. In no way, shape or form am I 'down on my luck.' Neither am I a freak. I leave that position in this world to you and your worthless family."  
  
He watched the shock cross Vernon's face, soon replaced with anger that blotched his face purple. "Why, you insolent little bastard! I take it your family instilled about as much discipline as his! If it weren't for the fact that the lot of you are - are FREAKS - I'd be having words with your father!"  
  
He snarled again and took a step forward.. With a gentle flick of his left wrist his wand shot into his hand from its sheath on the underside of his forearm. Vernon jumped, as did Petunia and Dudley.  
  
"You are perfectly welcome to go see my father any time you wish, Vernon," he growled the name and felt Harry's eyes on him, but he didn't turn, only continued, "You can find him in Azkaban Prison. He's there on murder charges, as well as more than a dozen others."  
  
He pointed the tip of his wand directly between the man's eyes. His voice calm whispered, "He taught me everything I know. Want me to show you?"  
  
Vernon visibly paled and Petunia almost wailed, clutching at one of her husband's fat arms. He felt Harry place a slightly trembling hand on his shoulder, "Draco?" He didn't move for a moment, then turned his eyes on the woman. She trembled and clung tighter.  
  
He looked back at Vernon, directly in the eyes gone dark with fear. "I know what you did to Harry, and guess what? When you turn seventeen, you can practice magic whenever you like." His eyes narrowed and his voice filled with menace, "I turned seventeen three weeks ago."  
  
Finally he stepped away and turned back to Harry. The raven-haired Gryffindor was staring at him in abject amazement. He smiled warmly, a full hearted real smile, the first one he'd given anybody in years.  
  
"Come one then. Things to see, people to do."  
  
* * * *  
  
Harry smiled back at Draco, nodding. He glanced one at his muggles relatives, the people he now knew he would never see again. He gave them a cursory nod, patted the flinching Dudley on the shoulder and fell in beside Draco, knowing full well that the Dursley's were watching them as they walked away.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
One chapter to go! Oo; And, well, I had fun writing this chapter, for many reasons ^^ Hope you all enjoyed it ^^!  
  
Oh dear, what's going to happen next? oo;  
  
I'm thinking I shoulda put an age limit on this fic oo;  
  
Hannah  
  
*wanders off, muttering things about cookies and melted chocolate* 


	17. Chapter 15

All recognizable characters are © J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing them for a while ^^  
  
* * * *  
  
"I can't believe you did that!"  
  
Harry was simply amazed by Draco's actions towards the Dursleys. He had wanted to do the same thing for years, but had always stayed his hand out of fear of retribution, but Draco, Draco simply went right ahead and did what he pleased. Harry was very nearly in awe.  
  
He leaned against the wall and grinned to himself as Draco once again struggled with the lock of his hotel door, muttering obscenities to himself. Eventually, as before, the blonde pulled out his wand and muttered the unlocking spell. The Slytherin threw the door open in triumph and stepped into the room.  
  
Harry glanced about, almost expecting to see Snape standing there again; he then flopped on to the sofa, spreading his long legs out toward the hearth as he toed off his shoes. "Honestly. Threatening Uncle Vernon!" He laughed lightly as he leaned forward shrugging his jacket off.  
  
Draco flopped down next to him having already taken off his coat and shoes. He had an annoyed expression on his face and a slight frown. Harry calmed down and sat back when he noticed.  
  
"Why didn't you ever do it yourself?" Draco asked him quietly.  
  
Harry paused for a moment, a little shocked, thinking his answer over.  
  
"I did, once or twice. During the summer, before third year, I blew my Aunt Marge up and threatened Uncle Vernon. Mostly, I just let their taunts slide off me, biting my tongue, because they promised to either take away, or give privilege's, depending on how I behaved."  
  
He pulled his legs up under him and continued, "When I was younger, I didn't know any better, I thought it was something I'd done and that even having that damn cupboard was something to be happy about. I'd tell myself that at least I had somewhere to hide when Dudley went on one of his rampages."  
  
Draco was looking at him oddly; he shrugged slightly and tried a small smile, "These days, I think I tell myself it's because they don't like wizards or witches, because they're scared of us."  
  
The Slytherin snorted, "You sound like you're trying to defend them. These people kept you in a cupboard until you were eleven and only gave you an actual room when they thought they were being watched!" Draco shook his head, "I just don't get why Dumbledore kept sending you back there every year."  
  
Harry frowned, staring at the empty hearth. Pulling out his wand, he set a fire and then settled back. "There's a protection thing at the house that only works for blood relatives. It was the best way to keep me safe over the summer and I never liked the idea of putting anyone else at risk." He sighed, "Not that there weren't a host of families willing to take me in."  
  
He heard Draco sigh, but stared resolutely at the fire, looking up a few moments later when the other boy said, "Should we order up some food?"  
  
Talk turned to pleasanter things while eating. Quidditch, and the fact Draco's house kept losing, (he muttered about that for a good fifteen minutes, making Harry laugh) what they'd be taking next year at Hogwarts, the rest of the summer and so on. They learned a lot about each other in the few hours they sat talking. For instance, Harry learned that Draco held a great liking for muggle literature close to his heart and actually had a fair talent in art, something not taught at their school.  
  
Harry spoke a little of his friendship with Ron and Hermione and Draco barely sneered, which he took as a good sign, and in turn, the blonde told him of his friendship with Crabbe and Goyle. He'd actually known them for years before Hogwarts; they were family friends and happened to be his only true friends in the entire Slytherin house.  
  
They argued, for a while, about Harry's hair. Draco insisted he should use some gel or something to tame it, while Harry, himself, tried to get across the idea that he really didn't care what he looked like and his hair was fine as it was, thank you very much.  
  
Half way through Draco's attempt to stress the importance of being impeccably dressed at all times, Professor Snape's quiet voice cut in.  
  
"That is all very well, Master Malfoy, but when it comes to Potter, I think you're fighting a losing battle."  
  
They both turned in surprise, Draco halting mid speech, finding the tall Potions master standing behind the sofa, he must have apparated in without their noticing. He had his arms folded and looked a lot calmer than he had the last time they'd seen him.  
  
"Professor Snape, sir! Would you like a mug of coffee?" Harry motioned to the tray on the table to the right of the sofa. The older man's eyes darted toward the proffered beverage as a look of longing crossed his features.  
  
"Perhaps one."  
  
Draco got up with a smile and poured one out, as Snape sat himself down in his vacated seat next to Harry, who shuffled sideways slightly to allow him more room. After a moment's pause, in which Snape sipped the coffee with a look of pure bliss, the Potions Master leaned back into the cushions and gave Harry a steely glare.  
  
"I've been sent to inform you that the Weasleys," a slight pursing of the lips for a second, "have agreed to have you for the remainder of the summer." Professor Snape sipped the coffee again before continuing; ignoring the grin spreading it's way across Harry's face.  
  
"This fire will be connected to the Floo network, for a quarter of an hour tomorrow afternoon, at precisely one pee em. They will, of course, be expecting you." Harry's grin faltered a little. Tomorrow afternoon? That was two full days sooner than he had planned. He found his eyes moving to look at Draco, who was standing close to the fire, one hand resting on the mantle piece, apparently keeping out of the conversation.  
  
There was a strange, closed expression on his face now that Harry realised was the mask he used to hide his true feelings. His gaze flicked back to Professor Snape as the man continued, oblivious to the tension in the air.  
  
"Your things' have already been moved, including your muggle possessions, so you needn't worry about having to collect anything." A few more sips of the slowly cooling coffee, again, that look of pleasure, "Professor Dumbledore wanted me to remind you that you can contact him at any time, if you have the need. I would like to remind you to keep up with your Occlumency."  
  
Harry smiled at the look his Professor gave him with that last remark. There was a long-standing feud between them over his occasional mishap and forgotten lesson. Though they had gotten past the arguments over his father and Sirius, as Harry himself had realised that neither were as perfect as he had believed them to be, they still engaged in bouts of childishness over his Occlumency training.  
  
"Um, about that, sir."  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at him over his mug. "You forgot, again. When?"  
  
Harry nodded, "Last night."  
  
"What did you see?"  
  
Harry swallowed. "Were you there last night?" He asked quietly.  
  
Snape shook his head, the mug of coffee now clasped in tight hands on his lap. "I was unavoidably detained. Now, what did you see?"  
  
"Two new initiates refused to take the Mark. He tortured them for it." He paused, suddenly remembering something, "Oh god. Draco."  
  
The blonde turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised, a question in his expression.  
  
"Voldemort knows about you. I just remembered, Zabini and Osborne told him. Something about not being able to find me because you'd been enlisted to help hide me."  
  
Draco pulled himself up, a defiant look in his eyes, Snape watched him with a knowing expression. "Really?" His voice was calm, toneless, betraying nothing. Harry was surprised by this. He had thought the Slytherin would, at the very least, sound annoyed, this toneless defiance was unnerving. It was almost as if Draco had been expecting something like this to happen, had been waiting for it to happen.  
  
"Yeah, and he didn't exactly feel happy about it. What are we going to do?" He asked Snape, turning on him with a pleading expression. Snape frowned, again looking at Draco who stood, back straight, hands in his pockets, still looking defiant.  
  
"We can do nothing. All I can do is talk to Headmaster Dumbledore and see if we can find a safe house. Ultimately, though, it is up to Draco himself." He finished his coffee and put it on the table, standing as he did so. "Now, I must leave you both. Dumbledore needs to be informed of this."  
  
Moving to the other side of the sofa, Snape pulled a small bag out of the hidden depths of his robes, handing it to Harry. "The Floo powder," he muttered, hands disappearing back into the folds of black material.  
  
Harry nodded glumly and a moment later the Potions Master was gone. The second they were alone he turned on the shorter blonde. "Come with me. Tomorrow. Come with me to The Burrow."  
  
Draco's jaw tensed visibly and he shook his head. "No. I'm not hiding simply because you felt he was pissed off."  
  
Harry almost jumped to his feet, "Draco! I saw what he did too those two who refused. He tortured them, he enjoyed it. I'd be surprised right now if they weren't dead! Can't you take this seriously? He's going to do the same to you the first chance he gets!"  
  
Draco looked up at him and Harry saw his usually pale eyes were dark, whether it was fear or determination, he couldn't tell, but he knew there was no point in arguing with him. Draco was as stubborn as he was when he was backed into a corner.  
  
"I'm not hiding, Harry. And Voldemort won't know where I am anyway. I'm staying here for one more week, by then he'll have gotten over it."  
  
Draco's tone suggested finality and despite his numerous misgivings, Harry acquiesced. They stood in silence for a few minutes, looking at each other, emerald eyes locked on dark silver until Harry came to a decision. He crossed the short space between them and before Draco knew what was happening, wrapped his arms round him.  
  
"I know I can't talk you round, so just - just be careful, alright?" I don't want to lose you now, not when I've just found you, he silently continued.  
  
After a pause, Draco relaxed into his arms and returned the embrace with silent fervor, resting his head in the crook between Harry's shoulder and neck. "I'll be fine," he whispered.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco woke with a stiff neck, but he didn't care. He was lying on the sofa, wrapped in Harry's strong arms, his head resting on the taller boy's chest. When Snape had left, Harry had taken him in his arms and asked him to be careful. At that moment, he hadn't wanted to move. With the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head, he had felt safe in the taller boy's arms.  
  
Afterwards, they had sat on the sofa and talked late into the night, though Harry hadn't mentioned Voldemort again. They had discussed the fact that the real Colin Henderson had been a wizard, trying to figure out exactly why he would have been working at the same place as Vernon Dursley.  
  
They hadn't come to any real conclusion and had moved on to other things, such as what he, Draco, would be getting up to for the rest of the holiday and what Harry would be doing at The Burrow. Eventually they had curled up together, still talking, drinking coffee mocha's until they had fallen asleep.  
  
He stirred slightly, opening his eyes and glancing at the clock. It was nearing nine in the morning. Only four more hours 'til Harry left. He frowned, not wanting to get up, not wanting the day to begin, though he knew that he and it had too.  
  
Eventually he talked himself round, slowly slipped out from Harry's arms and sat up. He found his wand after a few moments search, cursing himself for losing it, and set the fire blazing. When Harry finally awoke, he was already dressed and waiting, a smile on his lips.  
  
"I'm fed up with ordering through the hotel, so I thought we'd get breakfast in town." He said when Harry finished packing away his things and started mentioning food, about an hour later. The Gryffindor frowned slightly, "You sure?"  
  
"Absolutely. I'm paying."  
  
* * * *  
  
It was nearing twelve when they began to make their way back, and Harry insisted they stop by Arcadia, he wanted to see if Henry had returned. On the way past, they stopped in Jay's Cookies and the Gryffindor bought them two cookies each, chocolate of course, and just as warm and melt in the mouth as he remembered them being.  
  
He laughed at the way Draco delicately nibbled at his until they reached the wizard shop and found it cordoned off. Both boys stilled and stood, looking at the wreckage. Harry sighed, taking a bite out of his first cookie and trying to stop it from disintegrating in his hands. "Hope the Shires are okay."  
  
He noticed Draco watching him intently and shrugged slightly, before turning away, "Though, I'm sure Dumbledore would have told me."  
  
Draco gave up all pretenses on the door this time, and simply pulled out his wand as soon as it came within sight. Harry laughed, fighting with his cookie as it crumbled. Draco raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk, unlocked the door and stepped in. "Please don't touch anything," he said pointing at Harry's chocolate covered fingers.  
  
Harry stared down at the mess all over his hands and before Draco could move, wiped one finger down the left side of his face. He grinned at the astonished look on the blondes face.  
  
"You - what - Harry!" the Slytherin finally burst out. Harry broke into fits of giggles and proceeded to suck the chocolate from his fingers as Draco rushed off to wipe the smear from his face. When he returned, Harry glanced up and grinned from his seat on the sofa. He was working his way through the second cookie now and getting the bloody thing all over his hands again.  
  
Draco gave him a wary look and sat on the far side of the sofa, nibbling at his own cookie. "Oh, come on!" Harry said with a grin, "Stop nibbling the thing and eat it." Draco gave him a haughty look and continued picking at it. "Just because you eat like a child at Florean Fortescue's, doesn't mean I have to."  
  
"Pfff," he replied around a mouthful of cookie and trying not to laugh again at the look on Draco's face. He finished and began sucking his fingers, all the time aware of the blonde's eyes on him. He eyed the remarkably chocolate free Slytherin as he sucked on a thumb. Draco noticed him looking and paused mid-nibble.  
  
Harry was on him in a second, and with a laugh he grabbed Draco's cookie. They fell off the sofa, the raven-haired Gryffindor landing on the shorter boy's chest. He pinned him with his knees and, with a grin, proceeded to smear the still exquisitely melted chocolate over the protesting blonde's face.  
  
"Harry!!" Draco spluttered, attempting to sound angry, but bursting into laughter as he fended off Harry's chocolate smeared hands. Harry grinned and stopped, sitting up to admire his handy-work. "Much better," he said, knowing full well his eyes were sparkling mischievously. Draco mock-glared up at him, as they both fought to regain the breath they had lost in the furious struggle.  
  
"Now, you look truly delectable," he whispered as he lay down and kissed the boy pinned beneath him. When he pulled away, Draco let out a soft moan and looked up at him with darkened eyes. He gave the blonde a lop-sided grin, muttered something about him looking a lot less dignified, now he was covered in chocolate and leaned back down again, gently kissing the chocolate smears from his face.  
  
"You're mad, Harry," he heard Draco breath into his ear as he kissed the chocolate from the other boy's left cheek. He grinned, whispered, "Yeah, I know," and trailed kisses down the Slytherin's pale neck as the shorter boy slipped his arms round his shoulders, pressing their bodies closer.  
  
He slipped one arm under Draco as they kissed, relishing the feel of the other boy's body under his own, knowing he had, at most, another half an hour with him, before he had to leave for Ron's house and regretting the fact. He ran one hand down Draco's body, smiling against his lips at the gentle tremor, meaning to remember every curve, the feel of muscle under smooth, pale skin.  
  
* * * *  
  
Draco opened his eyes mid kiss and they fell upon the clock on the mantle piece. Shit. It was already ten to one. The bloody Floo would be open soon. He closed his eyes again, losing himself in the sensation of Harry's lips on his own, before gently pulling away and muttering, "The time," a little unsteadily.  
  
Harry frowned at him for a second before turning his head and looking at the clock over his shoulder. Draco silently watched him, tightening his grip on the back of the Gryffindor's shirt. A moment later, Harry sighed and dropped his head into the crook of Draco's neck.  
  
Rather unwillingly, they climbed to their feet and began moving around the room collecting together Harry's things, occasionally catching each other's eye. Each time, Draco could see the undisguised heat in the raven-haired boy's eyes, shielded as they were, by his glasses.  
  
By the time it was one o'clock they were standing side by side in front of the fire. Draco stuffed his hands in his pockets, completely unwilling to wish Harry goodbye. He wanted Harry to stay, but wouldn't admit to the fact. Finally the clock struck one and their eyes met.  
  
Draco watched as Harry shouldered his bag and nudged his toe against the small suitcase, a slight frown marring his features. "I suppose I'll see you on the train then," he mumbled. Draco nodded, still looking at the floor, still unwilling to say goodbye, "You going to be okay with Granger and Weasley?" He asked instead, stalling for time.  
  
He looked over when there was no reply, just in time to see Harry nodding decisively, the frown replaced with a determined look. His shoulders slumped and he gave in. Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms round the taller boy's shoulders in a brief, yet tight, embrace, which was returned almost instantly.  
  
He pulled back and Harry picked up the suitcase. Both their eyes turned to the clock. Five past. He'd better hurry up. He looked on as Harry closed his eyes briefly, digging out the pouch of Floo powder Snape had given him. They nodded to each other and Harry threw some of the powder into the fire.  
  
It flared green and Harry hugged the suitcase tightly, stepping in and saying clearly "The Burrow!"  
  
When he was gone, Draco slumped into the piled cushions of the sofa, staring at nothing until the fire died down to glowing orange embers and he felt his eyes pricking with something he refused to acknowledge. He spent the rest of the day busying himself with tidying up, (though he didn't really need to, after Harry had spent a few nights over) reading and giving the 'telephone' a try when he felt hungry enough to warrant such effort.  
  
He sneered at himself in the mirror that evening as he readied himself for bed, reprimanding his reflection for looking like a lost puppy. When he climbed into the empty bed, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling for a long time.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
o.o! Just the Epilogue to go now!  
  
*wonders off mumbling about cookies and writing more explicit things for the revised version which will soon be available on Noir Sensus*  
  
The 'cookie scene' in this is chapter is dedicated to my best friend ChibiBecca who gave me the inspiration, her wonderful knowledge of how those cookies actually do cover your fingers (as well as everything else!) when you eat them and for the way she kept me writing even when I was having a brainfart ^^;  
  
Hannah 


	18. Epilogue

All recognizable characters are © J.K. Rowling, I'm just borrowing them and hoping she won't ever read this oo;  
  
* * * *  
  
He spent his last week in Bath rather restfully after all the excitement Harry's presence had caused. He sat and read his favorite muggle literature, ate cookies from 'Jay's' (often with a smile) did a little more shopping and mostly just relaxed, enjoying the time alone.  
  
He had wondered a few times what it was going to be like between the two of them when they met up again on the Hogwarts Express on September first. Hopefully, it would be as it had been for the past few days, but he expected it to be a little awkward, if not highly embarrassing. Ultimately though, he trusted to fate and turned his mind to other things.  
  
He sighed and watched the nighttime countryside flying by at a moderately fast speed. He was sat in a muggle taxi no more than a few minutes from home. He didn't particularly like traveling by taxi, but it was the only way to get around if you had as much luggage as he did. With all his baggage, Apparating was out of the question and Floo would just be ridiculously unsafe. So he had simply opted for the muggle way.  
  
He leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes, thoughts turning almost instantly to the last time he had seen Harry. It had of course been awkward, and in his eyes, unimaginably soppy, but it kind of brought a smile to his face. Holding the raven-haired Gryffindor just felt right, and to be able to do it after all these years, all the years of denial, of love hidden behind aggression, it just felt like home.  
  
He cracked one eye open as the taxi began to slow. Home already? Wonderful. Oh, well, at least he had house elves to help him get everything in at this end. The car pulled up into the long gravel covered drive and stopped by the large double door, the entrance to Malfoy Manor.  
  
He lugged his things up the stone stairway with the drivers help and dumped it all at the top, right in front of the doors. He stood and waved the guy off after paying him, watching the red, white and yellow lights disappear round the bend, before turning and unlocking the right hand door.  
  
"Mother? Are you home?" His voice echoed around the large entrance hall, bouncing back to him from the far wall where two staircases curved their way up either side of closed mahogany doors that led into his father's library. There was no reply and the only sound he could hear was that of the fountain in his mother's conservatory to the left of him. Well, that wasn't anything new.  
  
He kicked his bags through the door and closed it behind him, resting his hand on the handle for a moment, listening to the quiet house. Where were the damn house elves? Shaking his head, he slipped his arms out of the lightweight, long sleeved cape, turning to place it on the fifth hook as always.  
  
His pale eyes rested on a midnight blue cloak hanging on the peg in the exact center of the long row.  
  
His eyes widened as memory stirred within his panicked mind. His hands began to tremble and he lost his grip on the cloak. The thin material drifted to the floor, pooling at his feet in soft waves.  
  
'Oh, god, no. Not now. He said he'd be back next year, not now,' his mind raged with the thought as he realised Harry had been right. Harry had warned him this might happen, pleaded with him to go somewhere else for the remainder of the holiday. He should have heeded him.  
  
He heard movement behind him, but didn't turn; he didn't want to know who or what it was.  
  
"Ahhh, Draco...."  
  
The voice was coming from behind him, from his mother's conservatory. He recognized that voice and wished it had been someone else, wished he had sent one of the Death Eaters to do his dirty work for him as he normally did. Unable to help himself, he turned.  
  
Voldemort was standing in the doorway of the conservatory, his snake-like features glistening as he moved slightly, dark robes trailing on the ground behind his tall, thin form. The Dark Lord stepped forward, his hand moving from the enveloping robes.  
  
His legs nearly gave way as the monstrosity before him locked his eyes with a deep red, cat-like gaze.  
  
"Draco, we have been waiting for you. I do so hate to be kept waiting."  
  
There was a wand in the skeletal hand. His eyes flicked to it, pale blue- gray now a deep shade, betraying the fear enveloping him. He took a step back, trying to get away from whatever the Dark Lord had planned for him.  
  
Voldemort's eyes flickered and his thin mouth moved into a faint smile as he raised his wand.  
  
"Crucio."  
  
* * * *  
  
To be continued.  
  
* * * * * * * * This will be continued in the sequel! ^^ BUT the sequel will not be out for just a little while as I get to grips with it ^^ If you want to read a BETA'd version of this story ( a few chapters here and there have been revised slightly, and chapter 15's 'cookie scene' will be a little more explicit) then look for me on Noir Sensus in a little while ^^ (once I've got the account, I'll put up an authors note with the address and stuff's)  
  
Well, I'm so glad you all got this far with me! ^^ I'm also so glad people liked the story so much! That was surprising, I've seen so many people who don't like these types of stories, and to receive nothing but praise throughout the entire run was amasing! ^^  
  
Thankyou all who reviewed and kept me writing! ^^ and I hope to see you all again for the sequel ^^  
  
Hannah 


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